RSVP I: The Fellowship of the Ron
by Riplakish
Summary: Kim Possible: Season 5. A masked villain uses imposters to break Team Possible. Will Kim and Ron be reunited or will new ships set sail? Part I of the RSVP Saga. Rated "T" for the most part with some "M" passages. (If Chapter 1 freaks you out, read Chapter 2 before you decide to bail...)
1. Strangers in the Night

_**Author's/Notes: **_

_**This is Part 1 of a 3-Part Saga (The RSVP Trilogy). It is **__**epic**__** in scope and "Ron-Centric" though most of the characters in the Kim Possible series will appear or be referenced before the tale is done. **_

_**If you're looking for a short story and a quick wrap-up, stop reading now. By the time RSVP III wraps up I will have produced the equivalent of (at least) three KP novels. **_

_**Parts of the story will unfold slowly. If you think you know what is going to happen next or who will do what—or even "why"—well, the odds are that you are probably wrong. Seriously. It will take the majority of readers awhile to tell if their first impressions are correct. Give the story a chance before you decide whether or not things are going to turn out to your liking.**_

_**Ditto on the issue of "Shipping." As Joss would say: "It ain't so important who ya brung to the dance as much as who ya go home with." (And if the dance is long, you may go through several partners before the music's done.).**_

_**And ALWAYS REMEMBER: **__**Everything isn't always what it seems to be!**_

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_**A Word about the RATING:**_

_**Although the RSVP Saga is not as dark or graphic as some of the other KP stories here on FanFiction-dot-Net, we're going to definitely leave high school behind. **_

_**And while over 90% of the story is solidly planted in the "T" Rating Category, there will be an occasional "M" Rated word, sentence, or scene. I'd like to think that the grown-up stuff is done tastefully. (Although the first chapter is probably the most shocking and offensive of anything you might read. Trust me, it gets better after that…)**_

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**Required Disclaimer:**_ Kim Possible and the KP Universe is the property of Disney & Co. Uncle Walt will rise from the grave should anyone suggest otherwise..._

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**Chapter 1 – Strangers in the Night**

Ronald Dean Stoppable had finally mastered the lotus position so that he could sit for hours without discomfort.

He had honed his meditation skills to where he could block all external distractions and commune with Master Sensei half-way around the world.

And—even better—he could hear his thoughts now without the old man having to resort to messages written in mystery meat gravy!

But the ultimate Monkey Master was still vulnerable to certain primal forces…

_**Do you need to seek shelter, Stoppable-san?**_Sensei's thoughts echoed in his head.

_What? Why?_

_**Is there not a terrible storm bearing down upon you?**_ the old man asked.

Ron Stoppable opened one eye, taking care to not let go of the ethereal connection he had with the head of Yamanouchi Academy.

All was quiet in the Stoppable house—not withstanding the small army of paparazzi still camped out in his front yard. A squad of monkey-ninjas—once the minions of Lord Montgomery Fiske—were still keeping order, discouraging the more aggressive members of the press as well as the fans, curiosity seekers, and out-right nut-jobs who failed to respect their new master's privacy.

His parents, unnerved by the sudden and invasive scrutiny, had decamped on another overseas trip of undetermined duration, leaving their suddenly mature and surprisingly unflappable son to deal with his new-found fame in his own, unique way.

As for the weather?

Sunlight streamed in through the second story windows and he could see that the blue skies were cloudless in at least two directions. _It looks like a bondiggity beautiful day from here_, he reported.

Just as he re-closed his eye, his stomach growled.

_**There it is again**_, the old man sent. _**Can you not hear the terrible thunder?**_

_Heh. Uh, yeeaah. I'm thinking that's the dinner bell…_

_**Dinner bell?**_

Ron couldn't tell if the wise old man was truly mystified or just pulling his leg. _My stomach, sir. It's—well—sort of rumbling._

_**I can feel the vibrations coming through your chi, my son! You must literally be starving!**_

_Well…I haven't eaten for a couple of hours now and I was thinking of heading over to Bueno Nacho._ Ron sighed. _If I can sneak out of my house without being spotted._

The old man chuckled. _**Of all of your adversaries, Fame may yet prove to be the most formidable. How are the others holding up?**_

Ron took a moment to review the events of the past few weeks.

The Possible house had been destroyed in the opening salvos of the Lowardian invasion and Kim's parents had moved the family into their summer cabin out at Lowerton Falls while they made plans to rebuild.

The other two members of the "Fearless Four" (as the tabloids had christened Kim, Ron, Drakken, and Shego once videos of their battle with Warhok and Warmonga went viral) were keeping low profiles, as well.

Preferring his newfound status of "Successful Hero" over that of "Repeatedly Failed Villain," Dr. Drakken had accepted a research appointment in the bio-weapons division of Global Justice. Dr. Director had extended the invitation, believing that his "flower power" had some fascinating, potential weapons applications.

She also believed in the old maxim: "Keep your friends close and your mad scientists closer." Since the Global Justice labs were Top Secret, Drakken was accepting most of his accolades "by proxy."

Shego was pardoned of past crimes, as well, and offered a position with G.J. She had gone to ground soon after. With her unexplained absence Ron was left with the nagging suspicion that she had changed her mind about reforming her ways.

The Director had been unusually tight-lipped on the subject. But then there had been little opportunity to discuss other people's business as she had scheduled Kim and Ron for a succession of meetings, personal appearances, seminars, and debriefings. These had the blond and the redhead on separate schedules, often in different parts of the country.

It was frustrating spending so much time apart during the opening month of summer. A more cynical man might suspect that Global Justice saw more value in Team Possible as _separate_ individuals than the successful gestalt that Kim and he had evolved over the years.

But things were bound to settle down eventually, he figured. In the meantime, he would continue to support Kim in her new-found celebrity as world-saver.

It wasn't Kim's ego at stake, here—though the more she said "No big!" the bigger it seemed to get. No, it was Global Justice's push to use their heroics to help rebuild national and international morale, shattered like the thousands of cities and towns in the aftermath of the Lowardian conquest.

And, as much as Ron tried to be supportive of Kim's and Dr. Director's vision for the new Global Justice version of Team Possible, he felt that he had to downplay his own part in the events of "Graduation Day" (as G.J. code-named their mission file). Aside from his loyalty to Kim in maintaining his "second banana" status and traditional role of "The Distraction," he was even more concerned with protecting the secrets of Yamanouchi and its ninja traditions.

Up until now it had been fairly easy: he was coming to suspect that his MMP—mystical monkey powers—were assisting him in this matter. While it wasn't entirely possible to "cloud men's minds" like a Jedi Master, he still seemed to have the knack for causing reporters to forget or, at least, misspell his name.

Still, it was getting harder and harder to do as viral cell phone videos of him singlehandedly ending the alien invasion seemed to pop up on the internet every hour!

Sensei "listened" to Ron's words and considered the deeper potentials behind his observations.

_**This is a time of great change, Stoppable-san. Not just for you and your friends, but for the larger world, as well. I want you to consider coming back to Yamanouchi to meditate and train your new-found powers before making any final decisions on the next phase of your life.**_

_Well,_ the young man pondered, _it would be great to come back for a visit. And I still haven't got the hang of doin' the Big Blue…but Dr. Director seems to have the rest of my summer tied up tighter than Mr. Barkin's as— _He caught himself in mid-thought._ —signment schedules. And then we—Kim and I—were supposed to start college in the fall._ Unconsciously, his right hand rose from his lap and rubbed the back of his neck. _Although so many new offers from colleges have been pouring in since we became famous and Betty—I mean Dr. Director—is pushing us toward the Global Justice Academy…_

_**Perhaps**__,_ his mentor suggested_, __**a little retreat from the noise and confusion would give you a clearer perspective.**_

_I'll talk to Kim and the director._ He sat up a little straighter. _Hey, maybe Kim could take some time off and come, too._

_**Stoppable-san…Possible-san's destiny is not tied to Yamanouchi as yours is. Do not misunderstand. She has her own path for now and your time with us would be best spent looking inward. One cannot build strong relationships until one is strong enough to spend time alone and use it constructively.**_

Ron had had Kim's back since Pre-K and their time together had only grown more precious since his status had changed from BFF to BF/BF (Best Friend/Boy Friend), but he could sense the wisdom in Sensei's words. And, between all of the rebuilding in Middleton (not to mention the rest of the planet) and all of the personal appearances that Bet—that is, Dr. Director—had scheduled for them, they really weren't spending that much time in each other's company, anyway. Kim seemed especially distracted these days and now might be the perfect time for a little spiritual fine-tuning.

The director would most likely be the problem.

Although she said that she had closed the files on the so-called "Ron Factor" study, he had felt her watchful eye on more than one occasion since then.

And after G.J.'s debriefing with Kim, Drakken, and Shego—as well as the videos that turned up of his Big Blue smackdown with the alien giants—Dr. "Call me Betty" Director had insinuated herself into every briefing/training session/public appearance that _he_ was a part of. Ron had a sense that Kim would have an easier time in asking for personal leave than one Ronald "Can't Catch a Break Here" Stoppable.

Over the years he had thought about changing his name to something more appropriate, like "Ron Forgettable" or "Ron Dissable." But now suddenly one of the hottest Dilf's (Director I'd like to—_don't think about it! Don't think about it! Bad imagination! Bad! Bad!_) was treating him like "Ron _In_dispensable!" And it wasn't just his own fantasy-driven paranoia: Kim had picked up on it, too. She had grown increasing tweaked at Betty's—er, Dr. Director's—increasing focus on Ron and decreasing mentoring of the Girl-Who-Could-Do-Anything.

"It stands to reason," he had tried to reassure his redheaded partner: "how much mentoring does someone 'who can do anything' really need?"

Unfortunately that had just seemed to tweak her all the more.

Yeah, a little _Ronalong Time_ might be a good idea right about now. Bet—that is, Dr. Director—needed to remember that neither he nor Kim were sworn agents under her jurisdiction and that these PR junkets were strictly favors.

Favors that had somehow turned into an uncomfortable series of obligations.

And, maybe with himself out of the picture for a couple of weeks, Kim would get the validation she seemed to need right now.

One way or another, Ron Stoppable was still thinking about how to have Kim's back.

His stomach growled again and Sensei chuckled. _**You may go now, Master Stoppable. You should seek shelter at Bueno Nacho before that storm arrives.**_

_Heh. Thanks, Master Sensei. I'll call Wade right now to set up my travel arrangements and then go tell the ladies that the Ron-man's got to go back to Summer School._

**RSVP**

"Exscuse me, Miz. I am vaiting for somebuty to join me here."

The tanned blond wearing sunglasses and a floppy hat sat down across from him in the booth anyway.

"Vat? Are you deff? I said—"

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you, Shorty," said an annoyingly familiar voice. "I'm here." She removed the sunglasses to reveal piercing green eyes.

_"Shego?"_

"Keep it down. I'm not deaf and neither is anyone else in this seedy dive. Unless it's you." She smirked. "Ya know, if you cut some ear-holes in that helmet of yours maybe you could have a conversation without yelling half of the time."

"Your disguise is amazink!"

"So don't ruin it by calling attention to us. Not that that ship hasn't already sailed with you wearing that stupid kettle out here in the open."

"Mine helmet disguises my true identity," the man known as Professor Dementor huffed.

"Yeeaah…but what disguises your helmet's identity?'

"Vat? Are you blind? I am vearing un hat!"

"It might look a little less ridiculous if you hadn't duct-taped it on top."

"It kept fallink off."

"Natch. You got a hat that's sized to fit an actual head. You should have ordered one in helmet-size."

"Are you going to vaste time making fun of mine disguise—"

"Or lack thereof," she drawled.

"—or are you interested in hearing mine offer?"

She sighed. "I've been getting a lot of offers lately. But I went to all the trouble to slap on some flesh-colored foundation and wear a wig so I might as well listen to yours."

The diminutive man grinned wolfishly. "I vant you to come vork for me!"

"And vhy—" The faux blonde shook her head. "—_why_ would I want to do that?"

"Power, wealth, fame, glory!"

She tapped an index finger to the fingertips of her other hand. "Let's see now. Power? Already a human generator and power plant rolled into one. Wealth? Been socking it away for years, now, and made out like a bandit on some investments I made on the sideki—I mean, I don't ever have to work again if I don't want to. Fame? I'm a frikkin' hero. Saved the world. Remember I said a lot of offers? Was being overly modest. Let's see…what else? Oh, yeah: glory! See previous finger." She leaned forward. "Look Doctor Demen_to_, I've wasted some of the best years of my life working for an idiot who couldn't pour pee out of a boot if the instructions were written on the heel. If I was going to trade up, it would have to be _way_ up!"

"Zounds like you already haff someone in mind."

"Yeeaah. Well, last time I looked, he wasn't available. So—"

"Who iss it?"

"Not important!"

"Let me guess. Rumor hass it that Monkey Fist is permanently _shtoned_ out of his gourd. Duff Killigan? Nein! He vont efen let anyvon caddy for him. Das Seniors? I hear that itt did not vork out zo vell for you de lazt time. DNAmy hass alvays been chelous off you. Motor Ed—I zee by the expression on your face dat you vould rather enter un convent! De others out there are chust jokes!" He stared at her. "Who am I missing?"

Shego banished the image of another, briefly blue villain from her mind and glared back. "Me, in another two minutes. Or less. So, unless you can offer me something that I really want but don't already have—"

"Kim Possible kneeling at your feet!"

The maybe-not-so-former villainess gripped the edges of the table in their booth and her fashionable gloves began to smoke.

"Tell me more…"

**RSVP**

Ron was zipping up his backpack when he suddenly had the distinct impression that something was terribly wrong.

The muscles twitched between his shoulder blades and could almost imagine hostile eyes glaring at him with malevolent intent. He whirled, dropping into a martial arts pose he had come to call "The Spasmoid Monkey." He braced himself for the sight of Professor Dementor or Duff Killigan or (he repressed a shudder) even DNAmy coming through his bedroom door.

It was Kim.

"Hey, Kimilla…" He started to relax and then noted the expression on her face.

"Ron, we need to talk."

Maybe it _would_ have been better if Dementor or Killigan or DNA—well, Dementor or Killigan, were there instead. The words, "we need to talk," had always struck a note of dread in his heart but today they were playing a whole series of chords. Something was seriously wrong. It was in her voice, her posture, the narrowing of her eyes, the folded arms across her chest. And something more. He couldn't quite put his finger on it but an imaginary monkey started to scream in the jungle of his subconscious.

"I got your message," she said.

Ron was nowhere as clueless as he had once—well, at least had pretended—to have been. "I was coming to see you," he said. "I wanted to talk about this in person but I figured a little heads-up was in order. I would never leave you a message and just…Bet—uh—Dr. Director, maybe…but I was coming to see _you_." He knew he was starting to babble but old habits are hard to break. "Thought we might catch up over at Bueno Nacho since it's not open to the public, yet. I still have my keys and the repairs are coming along—"

"We'll talk here, Ron. I'd just as soon not be seen in public with you."

At first he wasn't sure he had heard her correctly. But the words hung there in the air between them, unmistakable in their simplicity.

Then he considered that she might be kidding. But her tone told him that if this was sarcasm, it was venomous at its heart.

"Wow, harsh much?" he quipped lightly.

In truth, Ron was surprisingly wounded by her words and her tone. Her anger, while under the influence of the moodulator chip, had been frightening and he had feared for his physical safety; but she had never spoken in way calculated to be emotionally vicious. That lone monkey, screeching in his hindbrain had just turned into a simian choir.

"_This_ isn't working," she continued as if he hadn't spoken. As if she had rehearsed this speech for some time, now. "Back when we were young and nobody was paying attention, I could put up with your weirdness. I was tolerant of your incompetence—even though you constantly jeopardized our missions and put _me_ in real danger!"

His mouth fell open in astonishment. It was like watching one of those badly dubbed foreign movies where the words didn't seem to match the actors' mouths. She couldn't have possibly said what he just heard but she was the only other person in the room and her mouth was still moving.

"But I'm in the big leagues, now," she continued without seeming to take a breath. "And you're an embarrassment past bearing, now. Your manners, your eating habits, your vacuousness, your voice, your—your—_you!_ Your Ron-ness doesn't fit my Kim-ness! You're holding me back, Ron! Even Global Justice wants us split up!"

"K-kim…" He could hardly get his own mouth to work. His eyes were blurring as well. "I-I don't under—I don't understand!"

"I know! That's just it!" she railed. "You _don't_ understand! There's _so much_ you don't understand! And so it's _pointless_ to even try to explain it to you! It's just best if we end it right here and right now! You go off to Japan. And _stay_ there. You like the East so much, why don't you just stay there. On the other side of the world. Settle down and marry your geisha-slut, Yori. Make a bunch of slant-eyed babies like your little, weirdo sister! And stay on the other side of the planet. I don't want you _near_ me! I don't even want you on the same continent with me!"

The pain receded for a moment as Ron Stoppable was literally stunned into a numbed state by the torrent of hate and cruelty and vileness that was pouring out of his beloved. It was a nightmare that paralyzed his mind and froze his heart. He struggled to understand what he had done to upset her—what possible justification could excuse the racist invectives, the hostility that descended into flesh-crawling nastiness. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. He couldn't think.

Rufus stepped into the breach.

The hairless pink rodent stood up from behind Ron's backpack and began an angry rant back at Kim that started off incomprehensible and grew increasing unintelligible as he expressed his disgust and shock at Kim's words and behavior.

"Oh, shut up!" the redhead snapped. "I'm sick of pretending your choice in pets isn't disgusting, as well! You know what? I'm so tired and bored and so ready to be done with you and your whole dysfunctional family that—let me make it simple and clear and burn this bridge forever…" She rushed past her suddenly ex-best friend, ex-boyfriend, and grabbed Rufus before he could react.

"We are _done!_" she said coldly. "Do you understand? There is _nothing_ between us after this! There _is_ no us! What we had, the past, all of it—is just as dead as _this!_" And with her last words she gave her hands a violent twist and snapped the small creature's neck.

**RSVP**

Kim Possible awoke to darkness.

She didn't remember putting herself to bed. It took her a few moments to remember that she wasn't even in her own bed, in her own house.

Both were gone, early casualties of the Lowardian assault.

She remembered now: she was bunked in the Possible family summer cabin, deep in the woods near Lowerton Falls.

She was exhausted these days. When she wasn't spending time helping her parents comb through the wreckage of their home for anything salvageable, she was helping the neighbors and leading search and rescue parties.

Of course, most of her time was taken up by Global Justice missions these days. No, scratch that: her life and Ron's had been co-opted by Betty Director's "Public Relations" list. This quasi-internship was less about acting as G.J probationary agents and more about becoming the one-eyed taskmistress' personal minions.

She frowned in the darkness. _Not that Ron seemed to mind so much..._

Oh, the director had been quite persuasive in the beginning: "The world has suffered a massive psychological blow. People, families, towns, entire counties are suffering from post-traumatic stress syndrome. Folks need a symbol to lift them out of their despair, ease the shock that there is intelligent life out there—and that it doesn't always wish us well. The world has a better chance of coming together if they can see how they were saved by just two teenagers coming together…"

Yeah, that "two teenagers" line had gone over real well with Shego and Drakken. Probably why they had disappeared just before the PR tours really got going. Just as well, though: she didn't like the way her green nemesis (ex-nemesis, she kept reminding herself) kept looking over at her man. Come to think of it, Betty Director had a similar look in her eye of late.

It was bad enough to think that millions of teenage girls might be crushing on her Ron because he was one of the "Fearless Four" that helped save the world. But when grown women—powerful and possessing a seasoned sensuality—were looking at him like he was a new flavor of ice cream…

Kim sighed. It was understandable. Her Ron was brave and loyal and talented and so un-ordinary—extra-ordinary—way beyond ordinary! And even if he wasn't a fashion model hottie, any man who could single-handedly hurl giant aliens back into space, was bound to make any woman a little weak in the knees!

_It was certainly keeping her off balance!_

High school was behind them and they were entering a whole new world, now. Everything was changed or changing.

That was to be expected.

What surprised her were the changes that were taking place in the one constant in her life outside that of her family.

Throughout her life—ever since Pre-K—she had always led and Ron had always followed.

This was new.

A new Ron.

She didn't really _know_ this new person.

A man—yes, _man_—who possessed frightening, new powers.

She had seen the old Ron go off the rails before: a new hairstyle had turned him into a self-absorbed, fashion monster—albeit temporarily. And the time he had turned into a giant, orange—_don't think about it, don't think about it!_

And Zorpox the Conqueror: one of the most dangerous foes she'd ever faced…

…and that was without the ability to levitate and make Hego look like a 98 pound weakling.

What if the adulation of the world turned his ego monstrous again? What if this mystical blue glow got under his skin and rebooted the Big Z?

Or, most terrifying of all: _what if he didn't need her anymore?_

She was suddenly roused from her musings by the sound of a creaking floorboard.

"Alone at lassst..."

The sound was unexpected but the voice was eerie beyond any imagining. Disembodied in the darkness. Almost familiar and yet strangely alien. She felt her skin erupt into gooseflesh.

A whole lotta gooseflesh!

Her mind was still befuddled from too little sleep and too much exhaustion. The absence of light didn't help. But it was dawning on her that she had stripped down to her panties and a cropped tee to sleep on top of the sheets in the summer heat. The family cabin was remote, meaning no electricity and, therefore, no air conditioning.

For the moment she couldn't decide whether it was worse that the darkness hid her unknown visitor from her…

…or better that it hid her from voice's owner.

Somehow these two scraps of fabric left her feeling more naked and vulnerable than if she had slept in buff altogether.

"Who~o's there?" she asked, trying to squash the tremor in her voice.

"Now why am I not surprised?" The voice was amused and yet bitter. "You give a girl the best years of your life, you support her in every, self-centered, dumb-ass, and dangerous project she drags you along to…and then she hogs the credit when its long past time for you to be recognized for all of the sacrifices, risks, and unacknowledged successes that you've made."

"Who _is_ this?"

"Oh, man! If those clues aren't enough to answer that question then you must fuck over a lot of people! Guess I'm not so unique after all."

The use of the f-word tweaked her but it frightened her, as well. None of her foes—even the ones that had come close to killing her—had ever assaulted her with such base vulgarities before. This was unknown territory for the teen and she felt a trickle of sweat collect between her ripening breasts and worm its way down her bare belly to collect in the whorled cup of her navel.

"What do you want?"

"What do _I_ want, Kimberly?" The voice went from silkily contemplative to harsh and angry in a heartbeat. "I want what is due me! I want respect! And I want payback for the years of disregard, the humiliations, the thoughtless cruelties—"

"My parents will be back any time now," she interrupted. Her voice cracked a little this time.

"You better hope not." The voice was a whisper, now, but louder. As if the other's mouth was close to her ear. "They wouldn't be able to stop me. Your father, your brothers—quick and easy. Merciful, really: dead before they hit the ground. And then I could take my time. Two for the price of one…something to savor."

"W-what are you talking about?"

A hand brushed her breast, a quick caress through the thin fabric of her tee, and was gone before she could react.

"Your mother is an exquisite woman, Kimberly. A promise of everything you would ripen and grow up to be…if I were to let you live. Oh, the fantasies I've had with every visit to your house. The images crowding my mind when I sat at your dinner table. Do you know what I was really thinking when I said: "May I have some of your…_pie_…Mrs. Possible?"

She gasped and, for a moment, the emotional pain was so intense, that she thought he had driven a knife into her solar plexus. "Ronald?" she moaned.

And the thought crawled out from under her hind brain: _No…Zorpox!_

A hand locked onto her arm. Something hard and cold and metallic encircled her wrist. Her hand was pulled up and back and a ratcheting sound announced the closure of the other end of the handcuffs to the bedpost.

"And now your other arm, my sweet," the horrible voice oozed. "Then we can stop wasting time on engagements and weddings and skip straight to the honeymoon…"

She tried to strike at him but it only enabled him to catch her hand and clamp the second pair of handcuffs onto her other wrist. He was stronger and had the better position for leverage and she would have been done for except for an unexpected event.

The kimmunicator on her bedside night stand went off, its familiar beep tones unnaturally loud in the near silence of the cabin. The screen threw a soft glow across the darkness, startling her attacker.

She saw Ron Stoppable hesitate in that moment, allowing her to wrench her left arm free from his grasp. As he reached to recapture it, she flailed at him and the unsecured end of the handcuffs struck him across his face, scratching his cheek.

"You bitch!" he growled, backhanding her.

Kim's head snapped back and, for a moment it seemed as if the cabin's roof had been lifted away: the room was full of stars. Her eyes couldn't properly focus so she felt rather than saw that he had stripped off his clothes as he tore hers away and crawled on top of her.

"Help," she sobbed. Then screamed. "Help me, Wade! Oh help!"

His skin was cool and clammy where it touched hers. And wet. As he tried to pin her free wrist again she felt drops of moisture patter across her chest and face.

"Kim! Kim? What is it?" Wade's voice was tinny and sounded far away.

"Rape!" she cried breathlessly. She couldn't get enough air with his weight pressing down upon her. "Ron—"

It hadn't happened yet but, as soon as he locked her other wrist to the bedpost, there would be no stopping him!

Struggling with the unsecured cuff in one hand, her assailant raised his other to strike her again and then paused, peering at something that was discoloring his fingers. The pale light from the kimmunicator didn't reveal hues, only shades of grey and dirty white in contrast. He put his hand to his torn and leaking cheek and examined the fresh stains from his wound. His mouth popped open and his face grew drawn and haggard like a hollow-faced corpse as he grabbed the scraps of Kim's tee shirt to staunch the bleeding.

He leapt from the bed and stumbled as if already woozy from blood loss. He seemed to sag a bit as he scrambled toward the door, a little like a balloon that had developed a slow leak. Flinging open the door, he galloped out into the night and the thing that looked less and less like Ron Stoppable disappeared from Kim's sight and Middleton, Colorado.

**RSVP**

While a saggy, less-than-human-looking thing was collapsing to the ground a few hundred yards from the Possible's summer cabin, a small cosmic object was passing into the innermost boundaries of the _Oort cloud_, some 50,000 astronomical units from the center of the solar system.

Launched upon the destruction of the Lowardian invasion fleet, it had passed the orbit of Jupiter within a matter of days.

A week out, it slowed to navigate the _Kuiper belt's_ great ring of ice debris and dwarf planets, some 30 AU out in the _Trans-Neptunian region_.

Passing into the _Scattered disc_ zone, it accelerated once more, folding normal space into a warp-bubble to break the Light Barrier.

At 90 AU from the sun, it encountered the _Heliopause_ where the outbound solar wind collides with the interstellar wind. Reaching termination shock, it was buffeted off course for several parsecs until it maneuvered back into the Heliosheath beyond and began to pick up speed once more.

Now it was passing into the outermost region of the solar system's zip code and headed for deep space and home.

As soon as it arrived, it would deliver news or Warhok's and Warmonga's failed invasion, their personal demise, and an in-depth analysis of what—or _who_—posed such an incalculable threat to the Lowardian homeworld…

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**ABOUT THE TITLE: "Strangers in the Night" is the title of one of Frank Sinatra's greatest hits. It also suggests that the characters aren't whom the other thinks they are...**

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_**Author's/Notes 2: **_

_**At times I've looked askance at other stories where the authors tell us a great deal about what was in their chapter or what they're planning to do next. As a reader, I'm sometimes a bit of a purist, preferring to figure out what was going on based on just what was in the story, itself.**_

_**But I've come to see the value of the author talking about his or her process. So, if you're a "purist," just skip the writers/notes at the end of each chapter. If you're interested in my "process" I'll try to give the curious reader a little more insight into most of the chapters.**_

_**Like here, I've struggled to find the right balance of clues for the reader to figure out what's really going in this first chapter-as I try to explain to my first reviewer below…**_

**_Again, not everything in this story is as it initially might seem. The careful reader will catch the clues without having everything explained right away. For example, right after Ron has a terrible confrontation with "Kim Possible," we have a scene where Kim is thinking of her Best Friend/Boy Friend with longing and affection. If that doesn't tell you that not is all as it seems, you're going to miss a lot of what's really going on as you read ahead._**

_**Buckle-up, keep your arms and all personal effects inside the vehicle until we come to a complete stop. It's going to be a bumpy ride...**_

_**Riplakish13**_

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**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 1**

Clutch28 3/24/11 chapter 1

So in order to make the story fit your adult themes, you decide to virtually rewrite the characters to fit your image. Dreadful. Just dreadful. The only ones true to character are Shego and Dementor but you virtually killed any interest in their plot when you had Kim step completely out of character and then had Ron rape her. Try Adult Fan Fiction for this story, maybe another more fitting series too would help. But this "twist" has already turned me off.

**_Hey Clutch, sorry you missed the clues that "Evil Kim" and "Evil Ron" weren't the real Kim and Ron. I spell it out in the next chapter but, thanks to your feedback, I tweaked the first chapter a little more to bring those clues out a little more. Subtlety is a tough call for an author: we don't want to make everything too obvious right away or the reader doesn't get the pleasure of working through the clues. There are always readers who are three steps ahead of me (Yeah, I'm talking about you, Pavel) as well as those who miss some of the innuendo. It's a balancing act as to whether to dumb down the story or make it too difficult for the majority of the audience. In either case, reader feedback is always enlightening. I hope you will come back and give the story another look. You still might not like it but at least you can dis it for what it really is… R~13_**

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Pavelius 2/21/12 . chapter 1

Fan-fiction is surely fucked up the last days... couldn't post anything...

Anyway…I am starting to reread the whole story and i am looking forward to the changes you made

Keep it up

Pavel

**_Thanks, man. R~13_**

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warfolomei 6/26/12 . chapter 1

A promising start, let's see how well you can keep it.

**_Yes, let's… ;-) R~13_**

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Uberscribbler 12/1/12 . chapter 1

Now that was just plain evil. Enticing, attention-getting, and positively addictive.

But evil nonetheless. On to chapter 2.

**_Evil? Wow, you've caught on right away. You just don't know HOW EVIL! Mwa-ha-ha-ha! R~13_**

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Grissom 6/10/13 . chapter 1

Okay, I've been reading this series since 2011. The thing that's always really bugged me is how you seem to be constantly rewriting it over and over and over and over again and again and again and again and... you get my point, right?

So, I have a request: could you PLEASE limit yourself to one re-write per year? This current one has to be, what, your fifth or sixth re-write? In two years, no less? You spin a good yarn, but it's incredibly frustrating having to constantly go right back to the start so many times.

**_Sorry, man. My major problem is that I've gotten to a place in the story where—if I lose momentum—I lose my place in all of the different plot threads and have to go back and re-read the whole thing._**

**_And then, of course, I see a bunch of things that need fixing. Or opportunities to make the story and the characters deeper and richer. Or even put in a whole new scene._**

**_This is a necessary part of the process for me as a writer (made much worse by the length and complexity of this 3-part monstrosity). _**

**_And whether I go back and make the changes while readers wait several weeks (or months) for a new chapter to appear—or take down the old chapters so I can give 'em a real looking over as I work my way up to continuing the story where I left off—everyone still has to wait the same amount of time for new material (not counting the new material that may appear in previous chapters)._**

**_Without revisiting the whole thing from time to time, a number of plotlines would be dropped, characters shortchanged, and the overall quality of the later chapters would begin to suffer._**

**_There are writers who finish their stories before posting them. And there are writers who post one chapter at a time and never go back to fix errors or inconsistencies (despite specific reader feedback). _**

**_I'm not either one. _**

**_I hate making you wait for new material. I hate that I've gotten to the point where any real absence from this project means I have to essentially reboot my brain and figure out where everything goes again. I've offered to take on a Beta or even a Gamma—someone to help me keep track of where I've been and where I plan to end up…but everyone runs away screaming. ;-) R~13_**

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zafnak 7/10/13 . chapter 1

OHMYGAWD! Kim killed Rufus! THAT BITCH!

Oh..well maybe not. That line about disgusting pet choices was a bit of a giveaway...

OHMYGAWD! Ron raped Kim! The Ron-hating writers of Kimfiction feel justified in their views! THAT BASTARD!

Oh..wait...maybe not. Ron seems to be..melting a bit there...

Dr. Dementor you evil sadist! This is all your plot, isn't it?

**_Welcome aboard zafnak. You know the old Meatloaf song "Two Out of Three Ain't Bad"? I think you're gonna have some fun here… R~13_**

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Some Dude 8/24/13 chapter 1

Holy cow! Damn that was a viscous start... hope you lighten things up at least a little next chapter.

**_Stay with me for a couple more, at least: I think you'll be pleasantly surprised. R~13_**

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Akiho Tonoshi 11/4/13 chapter 1

soooo I've read a few of the reviews and now I'm questioning my interpretation, as such i feel i have to ask. Kim didn't actually get raped did she? i mean yes, it was going to happen and probably still hella traumatic but it didn't actually happen did it? either way, hell of a start to a fic.

**_Hi Akiho, your answers await in Chapter 2, but (1) no, she didn't, and (2) yes, it was. Trust me, this was the darkest chapter you'll read. At least for a while... R~13_**

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Kyuubi-Titan chapter 1 . Nov 12

This has me hooked. I found this fic searching for some Anne Possible smutt, but you have appealed to my sense of macabre.

**_Thanks, KT. Keep going, more macabre and adventurous situations for the lovely Anne Possible await! R~13_**

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_dbzsotrum9 12/30/13 chapter 1 _

So a fake Kim hurts Ron & a Fake Ron hurts Kim... what happens when they find out... those 2 have to get back together... there is no way they would ever stop loving each other & they have to be together, X'(

Will Ron get revenge?

**_Well, I wouldn't want to give too much away at this point but the road ahead for both Ron and Kim will be a very long one before those two crazy kids work all of their issues—real or imaginary—out. R~13_**

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_TheNiemand chapter 1 . 3h ago_

Hey wasnt there more chapters of this?

_**Yes, and they're being reposted as I finish re-editing them. I'm hoping for at least a chapter a day-two, so far, today. R~13**_

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_King of Anachronisms chapter 1 . 21h ago _

Hmm? What's this? Another rewrite? Fine by me, it's a reason to start over a very good and very expansive story over again. Maybe I'll even see things I missed before.

_**Thanks King! Many readers find "new" material each time they read-even when there is no new material. But there will be new material here and there as time and the reposts go on... R~13**_


	2. Masquerade

**Required Disclaimer:**_ As always, the real Kim Possible and the KP Irregulars are the bonded minions of Disney & Co. The words that follow are but shadows on the page of a greater reality that is not my own..._

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**Chapter 2 - Masquerade**

"Synthodrone goo?" Dr. Director turned and looked at Shego. "What do you know about this?"

The mint-skinned brunette spread her hands. "You've got me. I thought they were all accounted for when you brought us into the fold."

The head of Global Justice pressed a button on the conference room intercom. "Agent Du! I want an inventory on everything bagged and tagged from Drakken's lairs, starting with anything related to the synthodrones—operative, inoperative, parts, ingredients, everything. And I want a new accounting to compare with the original." She turned back to Shego. "Can you think of anything else?"

"You need to talk to Dr. D. The goobers were his deal. They didn't seem to be much good for anything and they always creeped me out so I tended to keep my distance."

"Did you get that, Will?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Du's voice crackled over the intercom. "I'll roust Drakken out of the greenhouse and send him up."

"Thanks. And I'll need that inventory ASAP."

"Uh, guys?" The voice coming over the speaker was younger and higher pitched than Agent Du's. Both women turned to the monitor suspended on the nearest wall.

Wade Load's expression was drawn and haggard. His two best friends had suddenly disappeared under mysterious circumstances and he had spent the past four days hacking every network, data bank, satellite, and surveillance system possible, searching for clues as to what had happened or where they had gone. If he had slept at all, it seemed to have done him little good.

"Do you have any additional Intel for us, Dr. Load?" Betty asked.

"Nothing on Kim." He smothered an involuntary yawn. "Ron—well, even though his tracking chip was disabled, I did trace him as far as Japan…"

"And?" Shego prompted impatiently.

"…but, as soon as he landed he went totally off the grid."

"I think I know where he was going," the director mused. "The problem is: I don't know _where_ it is."

Wade scratched his head. "Yeah. Ninjas. I tried to Mapquest 'Yamanouchi' and, well, I had to scrape the burned plastic off my desk, recharge the fire extinguisher, and go get another computer. Good thing I had everything backed—" He shook his head as if to clear it. "Off topic. It's the goo."

"Yes, Wade, we know. Our forensic labs have confirmed that the green stains found on Miss Possible's bedding is synthodrone goo. She apparently wounded her assailant and he ran off when he discovered that he had sprung a leak."

"Probably a slow leak," Shego added. "A large puncture and a goober bleeds out fast. Either our intruder was able to travel some distance before collapsing or its master was waiting nearby with some kind of transport. And maybe a bicycle tire repair kit."

"Did Kim say anything that might provide a—?"

"She was practically incoherent when her family came home and found her," the director told Wade. "Her mother gave her a sedative to help her relax and sleep. They thought they'd get a clearer picture of what actually happened in the morning but, of course, by then she was gone. We have agents combing the grounds around the cabin. They're looking for blood and trace evidence but if there's some sort of field-scanner that could be rigged to detect small amounts of syntho-goo?"

Wade nodded. "If you don't have anything, I could probably hack-mod something for you. But here's the thing. Kim got me some samples of synthodrone goo a couple of years back. It's not the same."

"It's _not_ syntho-goo?"

"It is. It's just…_different_. The chemical compounds are more complex and these samples contain biological agents, as well."

"Weapon? Contaminants?"

"Neither, I think. More like Synthodrone 2.0. Maybe 3.5, even."

Dr. Director held up a hand. "Let's back up and quickly review what we do know before adding to the pile." She held up one finger. "First of all, Shego is approached by Professor Dementor who offers her a position as his associate."

"Associate?" Shego snorted. "More like 'lackey'. Between Professor Doofus, his ego, and his grand schemes, there's barely enough space in the room to open and close the door." Her eyes narrowed. "I'll give him this, though. The little twerp _is_ actually dangerous. He hires the best and his tech is dependable."

"That's why your greatest value as a G.J. asset is your access to the villains that are still out there," Betty told her. "As long as they think you're still freelance, you can provide Intel that no ordinary, undercover agent could obtain."

"Yeah, well, I got zip from ole helmet-head. He carried on about how there was going to be a new order, the chaos from the invasion was ripe for exploitation, some new players on the board, yadda, yadda, yadda. No specifics, no names, no details. He wanted me onboard and fully vetted before he showed his hand." She frowned. "When he said he had a foolproof plan to break Kim Possible I tried to milk our well-known rivalry for all it was worth. But no dice. All he would tell me was that the plan was going down that day and that all of the variables had been calculated so that Kimmie and Stoppable would be dead or the next best thing by midnight." She hesitated. "Funny thing—though I can't put my finger on anything that he specifically said—but I got the distinct impression that there was some kind of mastermind behind these plans…and it wasn't that egomaniac Demenz…"

"If you remember anything else, don't hesitate to share—no matter how insignificant." The director turned back to Team Possible's Tech Guru. "Next on the timeline: Wade, Ron contacted you to arrange for transport to Japan that afternoon…"

A short, staccato burst of keystrokes erupted from the intercom. "Affirmative," he answered. "Ron called around two in the afternoon. A taxi picked him up at his house at five-fifty-two. He caught his first leg, a shuttle flight, at the Middleton airfield and was wheels-up at eight-twenty."

Betty held up her hand again. "Witnesses outside the Stoppable residence reported that he left the house wearing a backpack and carrying a shoebox. They reported that he appeared to be quite upset. Eyewitness accounts are confirmed by videotape from a local news crew. Ron was in obvious distress."

Shego steepled her fingers and stared out the window. "What would distress a guy who can throw ten-foot aliens the length of a city?"

Wade was rubbing his forehead and pinching his bloodshot eyes. "Maybe he got bad news?

Shego continued. "I was listening to the enhanced playback that Wade pulled from the kimmunicator during the rape—"

There was a sharp report like a rifle shot as Dr. Director's hand smacked down on the table. "_No!_ I must insist on the language of precision! Not just for the accuracy of evidence gathering, but for the sensitivities of Miss Possible's friends and family. Kim was _not_ raped. Only assaulted…"

"_Only_ assaulted…" Shego muttered.

"…God knows it might have been worse—much worse—if her attacker had not been driven off before he—or it—could continue. But I won't have loose talk overheard and turned into gossip by people who don't have all of the facts."

"Okay, okay, the point is, during the…_assault_…" Shego shot the one-eyed woman a look, "…it sounds like Kimmie says 'Ron.' Maybe she called him. Maybe _he_ thought his girlfriend _had_ been ra—you know. That would have upset him for sure."

The director shook her head and sighed. "The timelines don't match. Ron's call to Wade was the only call, in or out, to the Stoppable residence while Ron was still there. He was in the air, somewhere over Nevada when Kim was attacked. He left his communicator back at the house—we found it smashed, in fact—so he probably doesn't even know what happened.

"Yeah," Shego said with a sour tone. "Like _he_ doesn't know what happened and _we_ do…"

"We do know _some_ things," Betty countered. "We know that Dementor had a plan in place to destroy Team Possible. We know that Ron made an abrupt decision to leave the country that day…"

"He didn't seem upset when he called me," Wade observed.

"Maybe he was covering, maybe whatever happened didn't happen until later," Betty said. "We know that Kim was alone in the family cabin when she was attacked. Someone had created a series of events and messages that caused the rest of her family to be away for several hours that evening.

"I don't get it," Wade growled. "What _is_ it with all you super-villains, Shego?"

The not-so-jolly green woman bristled. "What are you saying, Nerdlinger?"

"You've got your chance to take out Kim Possible: why not do it? Blow up the cabin! Shoot her while she's sleeping! Just frickin' kill her!"

Betty Director was stunned. "Mr. Load, I cannot beli—"

Shego waved her to silence. "I got this, Betts." She turned back to the monitor with a flat stare. "Ya wanna know why _all_ the villainous foreplay? Strap 'em to a ticking bomb and leave so they have plenty of time to get away. Suspend them over a shark tank without emptying their pockets, first. Slow poison that gives them a few days to get the antidote. That kind of thing, right?"

The young tech guru nodded.

She shrugged. "Well, I can't speak for Drew—although it's no secret by now that for all of his bluster and ranting he's really just a big, ole softy inside. Me? I've been a criminal but that's not synonymous with murderer. Yeah, I play a little rough. You have to if you're going to discourage the other side.

"Look, if your opponent doesn't think they'll get hurt—if they're not worried that they might end up dead—then they'll _never_ stop coming at you. So, you hope that the ticking bombs and the sharks and the slow-release poison will make them think twice about coming back for more." She shrugged again. "Well, that was just us. _I_ never kicked anyone off of a building and into an electrified tower.

"That loon Killigan has some sort of sportsmanlike rules in his whole 'the world is my putting green' psychosis. Monkeyfist is—_was_—crazy so your guess is as good as mine. As for the rest?" She shrugged a third time. "But this case is different and here's why. Kim Possible didn't just save this family or that business this time. She saved the world! And now everyone knows her face. If you _kill_ Kim Possible, then she becomes a huge martyr. A very powerful symbol—"

"If you strike me down, I shall become even more powerful than you can possibly imagine…" Obi-Wade murmured.

"—even a rallying point to bring the rest of the heroes out of the woodwork. Better to break Kimmie's spirit so she's just another failed do-gooder. If she's out of the game then the sidekick will stay on the sidelines with her: it's pretty much a 'two-fer'."

Shego's gloved fists visibly clenched as she continued. "Whoever did this was _smart_. Because it's not only elegant, effective, and hard to trace, but because the alternative—killing the princess—means the _prince_ will go on the rampage." She shuddered. "You've never seen up close what Stoppable is truly capable of now. I truly pity the son-of-a—"

The door popped open and Dr. Drakken swept into the room. "I'm glad you called; I was just about to come up and see you." He glanced over at his former sidekick. "Oh, hello Shego," he sniffed dismissively.

"Dr. Drakken," the director began without preamble, we've recovered samples of syntho-goo from the Possible cabin—"

"Yes, yes, I know all that," he said, flopping down in a chair and propping his tiny, booted feet on the conference table. "Saw the samples that were sent to the lab. I've been analyzing them…"

Betty tried not to stare as a slender, green tendril emerged from the side his collar and scratched the blue-skinned man behind his ear. "Dr. Load tells us that the formula—"

"Is more advanced than the old synthodrone formula. Of course. Over the years I've working on improving the goo to get more competent henchmen. To this day I don't think a single one of them can make a decent cup of coffee!" He put a tiny, gloved hand to his chin. "Maybe if I added caffeine to the protein chains…"

"Hey, _hey!_ Dr. D!" Shego was snapping her fingers. "Focus, here! This new formula—is there anything significant about the changes? Like the bio-agents?"

He scowled. "Well, of course, Shego! Though you don't have to act all snippy about it! I explained it all to you in great detail back when I was putting the finishing touches on Eric. But you never listen to me, noooo—"

Shego sat up straight in her chair. "Wait a minute! Eric? The Synthodrone Eric? The one you got Kim Possible to date?"

"Yes! And it would have worked, too, if The Buffoon hadn't interfered. He ruins every great plan! I should have made a second synthodrone to distract _him!_" He was on a rant now. "_That_ would have been the perfect plan! _Two_ synthodrones! One for Kim Possible and one for…for…what's his name…the sidekick! With both of them distracted, I could break them separately! It would be foolproof!" Unconsciously, he rubbed his tiny gloved hands together.

"Uh, aren't you supposed to be on our side, now?" Wade asked as the two women stared at each other with expressions of growing horror.

"Ungn…yes," Drakken admitted reluctantly. "I just should have thought of it sooner," he grumbled to himself.

"Dr. D," Shego asked slowly, "didn't you use human DNA to make Eric seem more…real…than the rest of the goobers?"

"Yes, Shego. And that's the easiest way to tell that this sample is from a similar batch."

"You made another Eric?" her voice was rising in equal tones of anger and bewilderment.

"What? Of course not! I'm not in 'The Biz' any more, as they say. I think Dr. Hall still has what's left of the original run in her vats."

"DNAmy!" Betty Director mouthed silently.

"But I'm surprised that you didn't notice whose genetic code was high-jacked for this particular job—"

A strange whirring sound poured out of the intercom speaker: Wade's fingers were a blur over his keyboard. "Oh my God!" he yelled, his voice cracking.

"Yes," Drakken smirked, "It's—"

"_Ron Stoppable's DNA!_" The African American genius toppled backwards out of his chair.

"Nghn! _I_ wanted to say it…"

**RSVP**

Later that evening, Dr. Wade Load placed his dinner-tray on the small table outside his bedroom door. Closing the door and resetting the proximity sensors that would alert him as to his mother's return, he sat back down at his cyber-station and resumed his search for Kim Possible.

As he hacked hundreds of public and private surveillance systems in an ever expanding ring around Middleton, Colorado, he reflected on the two disparate personalities that formed the gestalt that was Team Possible.

He wasn't that worried about Ron.

Most people who knew Ron—or _thought_ they knew Ron (when they thought about him at all)—had a very superficial idea of what the blond was really like or what he was capable of. With Kim it was mostly what-you-saw-was-what-you-got: overachiever, driven, uncomplicated. Ron had hidden depths and getting to truly know him was like navigating a mirror-maze.

Ask anyone if Kim looked out for Ron and they'd obviously agree: Ron seemed to need rescuing whereas Kim didn't. Kim was cool and confident where Ron was frequently random and phobic. But Kim, Wade knew, could be as clueless as everyone else, at times. Ron was the _strong _one.

Ron knew how to support Kim and even run interference for her without it even registering on his closest friend's radar. Ron was almost always behind Kim a thousand per cent for whatever her mission, project, or mere impulse of the moment might be.

Kim, on the other hand, could be dismissive or even thoughtless when it came to what was important on Ron's _To Do_ List.

Kim was always surrounded by the support of her family—even if her little brothers were annoying at times.

Ron's family was frequently MIA.

Kim had the respect of the school, the community, even the world press whereas Ron's name was frequently forgotten or spoken of derisively by foes he often thwarted.

Ron, out in the cold, alone, cut off from the people in his life? He was better acclimated in the realms of self-reliance. The disregard of others, his intuitive stealth at avoiding the limelight; had forged a steel core beneath the layers of goofy charm and slacker camouflage.

Kim, on the other hand, tended to take her support systems a little more for granted—the brief and too casually asserted "you rocks" aside—and might more easily crumble once her aura of invulnerability was sufficiently stressed.

And, like that song that his grandmother loved, the one that said "you don't know what you got till it's gone," Kim could be really crashing now as she had not only lost her greatest asset and supporter but might actually believe such awfulness of such a gentle soul. It might seem unlikely that such a smart girl could be fooled about someone that she had "known" since Pre-K, but Kim often suffered from severe bouts of tunnel-vision that were mistakenly lauded as her ability to "focus" intensely. In some ways they seemed to be almost the same thing…but in the most important ways, they were quite different.

And Ron, MMP or no, had always had a "talent" for being "invisible," even right in front of the people who should have known him the best.

Wade shook his head sadly as he reprogrammed new algorithms into the data search-strings that he was releasing into the security networks.

Kim was a _thoroughbred_ and Ron was a _mutt_. That was the most succinct way he could put it.

Maybe that got her more respect under most circumstances. But people who truly understood the depth of the analogy, knew that thoroughbreds were often high-strung and vulnerable outside of their conditioned environments. Mutts could survive and even flourish under the most extreme and adverse of conditions.

He hoped he could find Ron.

But Wade Lode know better than anyone—even Kim's family and Global Justice—that Kim Possible was the one whom everyone should be worried about.

And, of course, as long as Ron had Rufus, he could take care of himself.

**RSVP**

William Du would never appear on the hotel's security cameras.

The self-proclaimed Number One Agent for Global Justice would never be seen coming or going from the Bilkmore Hotel by staff, fellow guests, or any pedestrians in a ten mile radius of the Upperton address.

Nevertheless, midnight found someone who was the spitting image of Global Justice's "Number One Agent" in the penthouse suite.

After double-locking the doors and drawing all of the curtains, he placed a laptop on the desk in the private lounge adjoining the guestroom. Sitting down and opening the portable computer, he plugged in a security dongle and set up an encrypted link.

Then he waited. "Be patient, Debutante," he murmured to himself. "This will all be over soon…"

After a few moments a window opened on the small screen.

A shadowy figure appeared, sitting upon a throne-like chair. "Report." The voice was electronically altered beyond any possibility of recognition. There were basso undertones that would make James Earl Jones envious and soprano-like overtones that made Falsetto Jones sound positively masculine.

"Mastermind," the clearly nervous agent answered, "they know."

"How much do they know?" the mysterious figure inquired.

"Syntho-goo was found at the Possible cabin. They're smart enough to extrapolate that a similar ruse was used on the sidekick." Du's voice wavered a bit and, for the briefest of moments, sounded more like a girl's than that of a male Global Justice agent.

The image on the screen was silent. Whatever expressions crossed its face was hidden beneath a purple hood that covered everything but its eyes. A bulky robe of matching color obscured the rest of the body with the exception of a pair of black boots and green gloves. Sitting down, there was no way to even judge the mysterious person's height, much less build, weight, or even gender.

"It doesn't matter," the distorted voice said finally. "They know next to nothing and, in the meantime, Team Possible knows even less. They're gone. I've accomplished Step One of The Plan. If either or both should return at some later date, I've taken steps to neutralize the threat before either can re-engage."

"Is that all?" Du asked. "I want what you promised."

"You'll get your precious pet back when we're done…_Mister _Du." Mastermind chuckled. Or coughed up a hairball—it was hard to tell with the voice-distortion mechanism. "But your part is not done…yet. I want you to return and continue to monitor the investigation. I want to know the moment anyone has a solid lead on where either of them went."

"Anything else?" Du asked with a sour expression.

"Yes. Try to not get caught. And if you are stupid enough to be found out, remember that your little…_friend_…is still my hostage and will be made to pay for your incompetence!"

He shuddered and, for a moment, Agent Du didn't seem to be anything like his arrogant, confident self. He bowed his head and said, meekly: "Yes, Mastermind."

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**ABOUT THE CHAPTER TITLE: "Masquerade" just confirms that some of the players are wearing masks and pretending to be who they're not. By now you know there's a false Kim and a false Ron. Anyone else not whom they seem?**

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_**Author's/Notes: (1/17/14)**_

_**Are Kim and Ron irrevocably broken? Who is this "Mastermind"? And what's the deal with Du? You won't find out without if you stop reading here! Again, I will warn you that not everything will turn out to be what it seems: read between the lines, when you can…**_

_**I also want to point out that a number of fan fiction stories drive Kim and Ron apart by making Kim overbearing, a bitch, or cheating on Ron. And while there is nothing wrong with telling those kinds of stories, I wanted to do something different (at least I think it's pretty different) and separate them (for now) through a cruel misunderstanding engineered by a super-villain that they may or may not have met before… R~13**_

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**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 2**

TheRedKommie 3/24/11 . chapter 2

You've caught my interest, though I don't know if I will like where you are going, I will keep reading.

And I actually teared up about Rufus... poor poor naked mole rat.

**_I'm with you. Rufus' death was not inserted lightly and will continue to have consequences and repercussions for a long time to come. R~13_**

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Pavelius 3/25/11 . chapter 2

Hehe…nice explanation for the events in chapter 1..

Dont let the snippy comment discourage you, the story is interesting ... and some people should be more patient o.O

Keep it coming

**_Thanks man. I recognize that, if the events in chapter one traumatized both Kim and Ron, they could also traumatize more than a few readers, as well. But, if I soften chapter 1 too much, it doesn't work in moving the two character arcs in their respective directions. Ah, sex and violence…as we will see in the coming chapters, there are always readers who want more…and others who want less…_**

**_Let the balancing act begin. ;-) R~13 _**

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FlyingSquirrel2010 3/25/11 . chapter 2

Omg that's a cliff hanger! Can't wait to unravel his mystery? Update soon.

**_Thanks FS! Alas, despite updates to come, the mystery may not unravel so soon. But clues will abound… R~13_**

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masterbow 11/24/12 . chapter 2

well you got 200 reviews yay i preferred the last version of ron assaulting kim than the new one but the new edits otherwise are fine,

**_Hmmmm, not really sure what I changed to "lessen" that part of the chapter—other than to strengthen the clues that the thing assaulting Kim wasn't really Ron. Substituting a word or rewriting a single sentence can make a big difference in an entire scene. Other times just rereading the same old stuff can seem different the second time through. I've already forgotten what I did on this latest rewrite. Drop me a line if you can think of any specifics and I'll take another look… R~13_**

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Uberscribbler 12/1/12 . chapter 2

This 'mastermind' character appears to be risking a whole heapin' lot now. I'm actually rather curious about these humanoid aliens and how they will or won't figure into events.

Kim and Ron are going to be a long time forgiving themselves for letting themselves get suckered like this, aren't they? I can't imagine what their 'rents are going to be going through in coming chapters.

Speaking of which...

**_Ah, patience, my young padewan: the stage is large, the plot(s) complex, and the cast quite large—the 'rents have an arc to be revealed over many chapters yet to come. As for forgiveness? There may yet be more damage to come… R~13_**

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Some Dude 8/24/13 . chapter 2

I figured that was the case.

**_I left more clues when I rewrote the first chapter. Originally it took a bigger leap of faith to go on to the second chapter. Just remember in the chapters to come: this won't be the last time I play with everyone's expectations. ;-) R~13_**

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loganhunter2 chapter 2 . 1/10/14

So I read the first chapter and I think I know what's going on so I'll keep reading my question is what is the order of reading the others once I finish this one or if I should wait for you to rewrite the others...

**_Read RSVP I first. Then RSVP II-which is almost "complete." I haven't started RSVP III yet but I hope to start posting it pretty soon. RSVP IV: Tales of the Kimarillion is more like an index of extra scenes, side stories, and AU ficlets. I wouldn't go there until you've hit Chapter 42 of RSVP II but it's not critical, either._**

Also wtf is rsvp stand for...I mean I even Google it and nothing hahaha

**_That will be revealed in Chapter 24._**

also any recommendations for light hearted adventure with Ron and Kim hell even shego all I've seen are dark and depressing one so ...

**_There will be light-hearted adventure down the road. And more angst, as well. I still say that Chapter 1 is the most awful stuff that you will read but that doesn't mean there won't be some dark times ahead, as well. R~13_**


	3. The Broken Places

**Required Disclaimer:**_ So far all of the characters herein are the creations and properties of Disneyville; I just slap a plotulator chip on the back of their necks and make them do my bidding for a few 'graphs..._

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**Chapter Three—The Broken Places**

After days of leaden despair Anne Possible found herself ricocheting between giddy relief and overwhelming fury. Her husband, however, was still catching up.

"So, Ronald is completely innocent?" For a rocket scientist Dr. James Possible could be a little slow on the sidebars. Of course he might just be a little distracted by the woman sitting across from them in the summer cabin's main room.

The head of Global Justice cut an imposing figure in her uniform—a uniform that was a little _too_ form-fitting, Mrs. Dr. Possible noted. And the form it was fitting was distracting enough to throw any man off his game. Add in the eye-patch and—well, Anne remembered Mr. Dr. Possible's reaction to that _Sky Captain_ movie a few years back. The next time she dressed up like Commander Frankie Cook in the bedroom he wasn't going to be fantasizing about Angelina Jolie!

"Not only innocent," Dr. Director answered, "but most likely still unaware of what happened that night."

"And you're saying that our little Kimmie-cub was attacked by one of those android goo-people like Drew used to make?"

Anne shivered at the look in her husband's eyes. _No, he wasn't sparing a single thought for Angelina Jolie or Betty Director's rollercoaster curves after all._ Like his wife, he had been conflicted about the garbled accusations their daughter made before disappearing. It had seemed impossible that the boy they'd known since he was four—their daughter's best friend and the one person who had stood by her through thick and thin—could be capable of such a heinous act! Hard on the heels of relief that Ron was innocent was another heartening thought: now there was nothing to hold back the vengeance they would rain down on those responsible.

Well, nothing to hold them back-except for the fact that they still didn't know _who_ they were or _where_ they could be found. But when they did, Anne Possible knew from her husband's expression, that sending them into the bone-crushing gravity well of a black hole would be a mercy compared to his increasingly revised agenda.

And now she felt a freshly rising fury as she contemplated how these monsters had not only conspired to attack her daughter but to destroy her faith in Kim's one constant: the pure love and selfless devotion of Ron Stoppable.

As quick as her fury rose it crashed again and now she felt deep shame. Humiliation and disgrace overwhelmed her as she considered how she ever could have doubted that young man.

Even for even a moment.

That anyone who knew Ron Stoppable could believe such terrible things...

Dr. Director was now explaining how Professor Dementor had gone to ground and DNAmy was nowhere to be found, when a more terrible thought struck the redheaded brain surgeon.

"Madam Director," she interrupted, "you said you think more than one synthodrone was used in this plot to…" she fumbled for the right word, "…neutralize our daughter. Was there evidence of another one at Ron's house? The day he left?"

The other woman's hesitation was as disturbing as it was significant. "The trace evidence is inconclusive," she said finally. "Once we understood the implications of using a double of Ron in Kim's attack, we sent a forensics team over to the Stoppable household. We got lucky at your cabin: Kim wounding her attacker not only drove him off, it provided us with the fluid samples to make an I.D. No syntho-goo has been recovered yet from Ron's house."

"But that doesn't mean there wasn't one there that day," Mr. Dr. Possible pointed out. "It could have come and gone without springing a leak. There could have been more than one."

Dr. Director nodded but her eye wouldn't meet hers.

"But you found something else, didn't you?" Anne asked.

The two women shared a look. The head of Global Justice carried herself with a no-nonsense demeanor while the brain surgeon pulled off a more relaxed, no-drama vibe; but both were strong, intelligent women who were aware of the subtext of any situation before anyone else was aware that there was a situation to begin with.

"It's probably premature to even mention this," Betty answered reluctantly, "but we did pull fresh traces of blood and saliva from Ron's bedspread and carpet."

"But you said he left the house alone and under his own power. He couldn't have been hurt that badly if—"

"The blood and saliva weren't human. We think Ron did leave _alone_ in a very critical sense." She reached over and gently put her hand on Anne's. "Unless there was another naked mole rat in the room that day, we think Rufus was either injured…or, more likely, killed."

Anne Possible gasped and tears flooded her eyes. It was monstrous! Poor Ron! What must he be feeling?

And then the thought hit her like a freight train. _What if the thing that did this—what if he thought _Kimmie_ had done it?_

Her husband's face looked as if it had turned to stone. "We'll have to tell the boys…"

Dr. Director leaned forward and plucked a tiny disc trailing a pair of whisker wires from the bowl of fruit on the table. "I suspect they already know."

Mr. Dr. Possible's stone like visage went from metamorphic to igneous: "Jim! Tim!"

The door to Kim's bedroom opened and a redheaded teenage girl came out dressed in olive-colored cargo pants and black, crop-top mission shirt. "My bad," she apologized, "but Wade's off-line and I had to get up-to-speed on the sitch!"

Dr. Director's mouth fell open. "Kim?"

**RSVP**

The interstellar battle cruiser changed course and speed to match the evident trajectory of the deep space probe hurtling toward the Lowardian home world.

Its humanoid captain studied the readouts—both the raw feeds from the scans and sensors, as well as the processed data from science and telemetry stations. As she contemplated the ramifications of the probe's presence and unknown purpose, her XO came up behind her and leaned over her shoulder.

"Opinion, First?"

"Lowardian," he answered.

"Are you sure?" she asked, suppressing a smile. "Could be a decoy. Or a trap."

"Ma'am, if it looks like a merkep, and walks like a merkep, and frells like a merkep then—"

"—it's probably a merkep," she finished with him. "Okay. General design is Lowardian, hull markings appear to be Lowardian, and it emits a Lowardian energy signature. Let's say it _is_ Lowardian. Doesn't mean it still isn't a decoy or a trap."

"Aye, Cap'n. But decoys and traps infer a certain degree of subtlety in intent. The Lowardians aren't exactly big on subtlety."

"True," She sighed and crossed her long and shapely, azure-hued legs. "But Intel is extrapolating that the probe appears to be a Black Messenger: a data drop signifying an Annihilation Event with data and analysis to assist the military in mounting a reprisal.

"Soooo," he considered, "the idea that such things actually exist—that something might actually put Lowardian heads on enemy pikes—begs the question again: decoy or trap?"

"Because," she elaborated, "No one's actually bigger or badder than the Lowardians—ourselves included."

"Probably an Espionage probe: bait to draw us in and then broadcast our size and position to nearby dreadnaughts," the first officer concluded.

The captain planted her elbow on the arm of her command chair and propped her chin up with her fist. "Best to let it continue on its current trajectory and hope it hasn't noticed us."

"I concur."

Several minutes passed in silence.

"Captain," the helmsman finally asked, "shall I break off pursuit?"

"Absolutely…not," she growled. "Prepare for evasive maneuvers and close within 50,000 macrons."

Her Executive officer grinned like a feral jagog. "Oboy," he said with real enthusiasm.

**RSVP**

The early morning sun had just begun to burn away the night mists as Yori stood before Master Sensei.

The old man took a moment to fold away the subject of his meditation, ordering his thoughts so that he might return to his contemplations when the day's obligations permitted. Looking up, he took in the sight of the young ninja girl who was like a granddaughter to him.

She wore a white kimono in the ancient custom of mourning rather than the color black as the modern Japanese were wont to do these days. She had removed the red ribbon from her jet black hair to honor the tenets of Ron's faith during this time of grief. Her raven's wing tresses, though tousled and unbound, only seemed to add a wild beauty to her normally calm demeanor.

In her hands she held a bowl of rice, fresh and steaming from the kettle in her personal quarters. Every morning, for a week now, the young woman had prepared a repast for the Chosen One. Bowls of takikomi gohan and every variation she could manage in such a remote location: tai-meshi, ayu-meshi, matsutake gohan, and kani-meshi. She had even hiked down the mountainside to bring back bags filled with Mexican-style fast-food from the nearest city. More often than not, she would return hours later to find the food untouched.

Her eyes, haunted by the intensity of Ron's grief, seemed larger and more luminous as they overflowed and tears fanned across her cheeks like transparent war paint. She opened her mouth but the words caught in her throat. At last, she turned her head and looked toward the great cliff where a hunched figure sat, facing out over the valley and staring into the rising sun.

"Have you taken food to him yet, this day?" Sensei asked as they watched the red orb of the sun turn golden, edging higher to crown The Chosen One with a mantle of light.

She shook her head. "I am afraid, grandfather," she whispered. "If he does not eat soon, he will die. I think he _wishes_ to die!"

"He will not die, yet, Yori. He is merely broken."

"But…how can the Chosen One be…broken? He is _The_ _Chosen One!_"

Sensei reached up and touched her trembling hand. "Perhaps the Chosen One is more breakable than the rest of us."

She gasped at hearing her mentor utter such seeming sacrilege.

"Yori-chan, a wise man once wrote: 'If people bring so much courage to this world the world has to kill them to break them, so of course it kills them. The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially.'"

The young ninja pondered the meaning of these words. Her Ron-kun was very good and very brave and very gentle so of course the world _would_ seek to break him. "I do not recall these words from the scrolls of wisdom. I have been remiss in my studies."

The old man chuckled. "No, musume-sama. The words are from a book, written by a gaijin: _A Farewell to Arms_ by Ernest Hemingway." He looked across meadow towards the cliff and the object of their conversation. "Go to him, dear one, and don't be afraid. _You_ must be his courage, for now, if his brokenness is to be mended. Tell him…" He stopped speaking and his eyes grew wide for a moment.

"Tell him what, grandfather?"

Sensei blinked past the terrible vision that had suddenly rocked his ancient frame and forced a smile as he looked up at her.

"Tell him that the seven days have passed. For his ancestors that means his Shiva is complete. Our ancestors would say he has fulfilled the Tsuya, Soshiki, and now Shonanoka. On this day, in our world and in his, he is required to rejoin the land of living. Remind him of that, Yori-sama. Take him back to his quarters and stay with him until he can sleep. Then you must watch over him to see that he is not tormented by the baku-spirits until he returns to wakefulness."

"And then?" she asked.

"And then you must be led by the heart's wisdom, not the guesswork of an ancient fool who has spent too many years among the piles of dusty scrolls."

She hesitated but the corner of her mouth curved ever so softly. The old man made shooing motions at her as he smiled in turn. One of the young ninja's greatest qualities was that she did not seem to know how breathtakingly beautiful she truly was. He wondered if Ron Stoppable was equally oblivious. No, he decided as he watched her turn and walk toward the cliff: the Chosen One might be broken, but he was not yet dead.

**RSVP**

Betty Director had seen how emotional distress could add years to a person's face overnight. In Kim's case it had done just the opposite: she looked like she had aged backwards. Some of her more recent curves had retreated back into angularity and a spray of freckles spanned both cheeks across her nose. Her hair was a darker hue of red, with brown highlights but her green eyes were lit with the old fire and her youthful frame seemed to thrum with an aggressive energy that would no longer brook delay.

No sooner had her name dropped from Betty's astonished lips then Anne Possible stood and faced her younger image with her fists on her hips. "Joss! How long have you been eavesdropping on us?"

Kim's father, taking note of the expression on Dr. Director's face, said: "I don't believe that you've met Kim's cousin, Director. This is my brother's daughter, Jocelyn Possible."

**RSVP**

Mastermind sat upon his throne-like chair gazing down at the disgraced ninja.

_Mastermind? Or '_The'_ Mastermind?_ Fukushima wondered as he gazed up at the robed and masked super-villain.

"Perhaps you did not understand my instructions," the unnerving electronic voice stated.

"You want me to arrange surveillance for the Possible and Stoppable households in case either member of Team Possible was to return home." Fukushima answered shortly. He wasn't accustomed to taking orders. That old fool Sensei had tried and…well…he wasn't going to be anybody's lackey _this_ time, either. _An alliance, maybe. Just long enough to defeat that cursed gaijin and retrieve the Lotus Blade. Then we'll see who sits in the big chair!_

"Nothing else," the inhuman voice clarified. "If either returns to their family, you are to notify me immediately. You will not engage them in any way nor will you allow yourself or your minions to betray your presence in any way. Do you understand?"

"But, I can take the boy! The girl for that matter. If either returns without the other—"

"You couldn't take 'the boy' before he came into his powers," Mastermind chided. "I will not have my plans ruined because of an overconfident, hotheaded pretender who lacked the self-discipline to graduate Yamanouchi."

"Ron Stoppable is my sworn enemy!" Fukushima shouted. "I only agreed to this partnership to vanquish him so that both of our goals might be achieved!"

"Apparently our ninja 'friend" lacks clarity in matters of our power-sharing arrangement, my dear," Mastermind mused. "Pray en_light_en him."

A woman stepped out from a hidden alcove. Her skin was greenish blue, almost metallic-looking, and her hair looked more like electrical cables than tightly woven braids wrapped in bands of silver, gold, and copper. Her form-fitting bodysuit incorporated a design resembling the pathways on a circuit board and was outfitted with an array of plugs, wires, ports, and outlets. Her eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark—glasses? Goggles? But her smile was cruel.

She pointed a device at him and Fukushima was suddenly transported to a world of bright lights and unending pain. Every nerve in his body sizzled with excruciating currents of electricity. His muscles spasmed, involuntarily clenching and unclenching as thousands of power pulses surged through his nervous system, overriding all autonomic functions. His lungs were paralyzed and he could not draw a single breath. His sphincter and bladder released involuntarily and he soiled himself. His heart sped up until its cadence began to degrade into an arrhythmia.

"Enough," Mastermind said offhandedly. The woman gestured with the device again and Fukushima collapsed into a smelly and untidy heap on the floor.

"I trust you have greater clarity concerning the power dynamics in our arrangement," Mastermind continued. "Obey me and I shall reward you by allowing you to be the first person to enter the Stoppable home after he arrives. But only after I have been notified and _only_ after I give you leave to engage. Are there any questions?"

Fukushima's only response to his master's offer was a bit of random twitching and a thin line of drool that began to emerge from his slack lips.

**RSVP**

When Yori reached the flat outcropping of stone where Ron sat, lotus-style, she was struck by the profusion of color that surrounded him. It was as if the Chosen One sat at the center of a shimmering kaleidoscope or a psychedelic blossom. Circling around to face him and drawing closer she could see that the colors were all folded bits of paper: origami birds on lengths of string.

"Oh! Ron-kun! So beautiful!"

I finished last night," he whispered, his lips cracking and his throat still raw. "Or maybe it was this morning…" His eyes did not track her as she moved to kneel before him. He had stared into the rising sun too long and was blind. "Two _senbazuru_, Yori. One thousand cranes for Rufus. One thousand cranes for Kim." He smiled gently, gazing at something that only he could see. "How long do you think?"

"How long, Ron-kun?"

He cocked his head to the side, his blue eyes shining. "Till I get my wishes?"

The bowl fell from Yori's nerveless hands and rice grains pattered across the folded paper birds. The Chosen One spoke of the ancient belief that one's wish might be granted if they dedicated themselves to creating a thousand paper cranes, a _senbazuru._

"One wish for Rufus…" he bowed his head, "…and one wish for Kim…" A tear whispered down his cheek.

It took all of her training to not lose control and sob right then and there. But Sensei had said that she must be Stoppable-san's courage for now. And if she could not be strong enough for herself she would—she _must_—be strong enough for him on this day of days! The hurt was so great within her that she knew that _she_ was broken by his grief, as well. It felt as if their hearts were one in their shared pain and that if his ceased to beat she would follow him into death within minutes.

But from this awful state she now drew hope. If the Chosen One could be broken and survive, then she could also be broken and survive by his side.

She took his right hand into both of hers. "Their wishes are taking flight even now, _watashi no aisuru_. But the wishes are theirs, not yours." She swallowed. "Would you like a wish of your own, Ro—?" Her voice almost evaporated but he nodded without seeming to notice. "Then I will make a _senbazuru_ for you."

"A thousand cranes?" he whispered.

"Ten thousand!" she promised. "But not here. I have paper and string back in my quarters. Come…" She helped him to his feet.

He was wobbly and the terrain was uncertain for a blind man but he seemed more certain of his feet than she of hers as she wrapped an arm around his waist and started toward her hut. There she bathed him and embraced him and whispered words of healing in his ears.

His tears were like a storm, then, and he wept bitterly as his heart's wound was lanced and the poison drawn from his soul. She took him to her bed and, as he slept peacefully in her embrace, she pondered the awful depths of his brokenness.

He never would tell Yori what had happened that awful day, what terrible event had sent him fleeing across the ocean and back to their shared destinies. She was wise enough to understand that it was more—much, much more—than the death of Rufus-san.

That it had something to do with Kim Possible...

Even wiser, she was content with holding him in her arms and never asking about the past. Not then, nor in the days to come. For Yori, there was only _now_.

Every day would be _now_.

And together, in the warm embrace of her bed, they both began to mend.

Together.

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**ABOUT THE CHAPTER TITLE: "The Broken Places" is obviously taken from the passage Sensei quoted from Ernest Hemingway's "A Farewell to Arms."**

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**_Author's/Notes:_**

**_I know the story description says that this tale is Ron-centric and fans of the Disney series are accustomed to spending most of their time with Kim, as well—but I should probably warn you that Kim will be offstage for a while AND I will be spending a little more time fleshing out characters who were barely explored in the original series. The story will build slowly, so be patient while we get to know the cast a bit better. The payoff is sweeter when the characters are less cardboard cut-outs and more like real human beings…_**

**_Riplakish13_**

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**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 3**

newboy 3/26/11 . chapter 3

This is a unique story. All I can say for the future here, is that the people behind this have woken a sleeping giant in ron stoppable. He has always had the potential and power to do whatever he wanted, especially with the mystical monkey power now under control, the one thing he has lacked is focus. Once he has completed this breaking process sensei mentioned and been reforged because of it, he will no doubt have achieved ultimate focus. In which case nothing in the world will stop ron from doing whatever he feels is necessary to get retribution for what has happened.

**_Sleeping giant? Oboy. You have no idea. But Ron will be hitting the "snooze" button for awhile, yet… R~13_**

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masterbow 2/6/12 . chapter 3

another rewrite SERIOUSLY.

**_Motor Ed? Is that you? R~13_**

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CajunBear73 11/30/12 . chapter 3

Oh my dear lord! Another rewrite...LOL!

And this time with Aliens!?

**_Yep! And I just rewrote Chapter 1 and started the Alien thread there… R~13_**

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Sentinel103 12/1/12 . chapter 3

I'm gonna win my bet with CB, I can feel it! Only two more rewrites to go.

**_What happens if I do more than two more? Drinking game, anyone? R~13_**

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Uberscribbler 12/1/12 . chapter 3

Well, that shows the Possibles. The Stoppables aren't likely to be in much better shape (Hanna, especially). Can't wait to see how that one works out.

That said, I'm not left to wonder exactly what Ron did when that fake Kim snapped Rufus in half. I'm further left to wonder if this 'mastermind' is even human, 'cause they sure are sounding literally cold blooded. Trouble is I can't think of any of canon villains who fit the description. That includes the Yono. So who the heck is this character?

Guess that's what they make updates for, isn't it? Awaiting the next one.

**_I can promise you that the situation at the Stoppable home will be…explosive! (Hee hee!) Regarding Ron's immediate response to the combined horror of Rufus's murder and what seemed like his BF/BF's part in such an unthinkable act…I think it's best to leave it behind closed doors and at a great distance. Even now (as this chapter details) Ron is still in great pain, numbed only by the shock of (syntho) Kim's words and behavior. This trauma will shape events and decisions for some time to come—which is why the precipitating event had to be so huge in chapter one. As for Mastermind's true identity? I must confess that I took some creative license in fleshing out the character's back story but I think it's very plausible given the series canon and was originally inspired by the character's creepiness (for me) in the original episodes. R~13_**

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_Some Dude 8/24/13 . chapter 3 _

Awesome, I've always liked the Ron/Yori pairing. Then again I always like the a Ron/ Tara pairing too.

**Well, be prepared for a little "spin the bottle" in the chapters to come... R~13**

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sakura89luis chapter 3 . 7/14/14

i just in the thid chapet and wow... this story is freaking awesome!

_**Glad you like! Just hope I can keep it up to those standards for the many (many) chapters to come! R~13**_


	4. Calm Before The Storm

**Required Disclaimer:**_ All rights for the Kim Possible Universe reside with The Mouse House. I'm just noodling about on their Used Character lot, taking little test drives without actually having a pink slip..._

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**Chapter Four—Calm Before the Storm**

A month later Sensei performed a simple Shinto-style ceremony before the Shrine of the Lotus Blade.

Ron wore a black _montsuki_ kimono with a short _haori_ overcoat. Yori, a white _shiro maku_ and _wataboshi_.

While Ron had indulged in the occasional daydream fantasy of marrying one or another of the Middleton Cheer Squad—not to mention Zita, Monique, Amelia, Brittina, and a really freaky nightmare where Shego chased him around a wedding cake—he always pictured Rabbi Katz officiating with his parents and friends present.

Yori had been willing to wait until his parents could be contacted or to even return to Middleton so they could be bonded in the traditions of his ancestors. After some contemplation, Ron decided to continue living in the "now." The old Ron had died, he told her. His life, his world was here, now, with her.

For the first time in his life he had found peace and contentment.

Here, he knew respect. Not as "The Chosen One" so much as for just being himself.

There was no food chain, no caste system.

No one could elevate themselves here by treating others as beings of lesser worth.

Clothes, fashion, outward appearance, wealth or poverty—these were things that belonged to the outside world.

And to his past.

While none of these things had mattered much to him before, the absence of their pressures were palpable.

And he was becoming..._himself_. In a much larger and deeper sense.

Since Pre-K, Kim's personality loomed large and he had always lived in her shadow. He was the moon to her sun, always orbiting, never orbited.

Unshackled from the restraints of societal expectations, high school repression, and the obligations of a friendship that constantly took him into danger and hardship with no reward other than increased anonymity and extra homework, Ron Stoppable began to feel like a fist that was unclenching.

Or like a flower, slowly opening up and unfolding a dazzling array of petals in the warmth of the sun.

Yori was his sun, now, her warmth and light filling him, healing him, nurturing him.

Yet she was his moon, as well: circling him, making him the center of their togetherness.

The mystical monkey power that had sustained his body through its long fast and restored his sight from sun-blindness was as nothing compared to gentle ministrations she brought to his days, and the not-so-gentle passions she brought to his nights.

There was only one disappointment associated with The Chosen One's new life in the Yamanouchi community that summer. The ninjas would grumble that he did not spend nearly enough time mentoring them in the intricacies of _Tai Sheng Pek Kwar_. The grumbling was good-natured, though, for the majority of his time was spent in working with the children.

His own childlike nature, expressed in his innate ability to see the wonder and humor in the everyday things around him made him a favorite of the little ones as well as their parents and instructors. Their love and acceptance was more important to him than anything he had ever done in the "world saving" business. Teaching, guiding, comforting, nurturing: each little life was a promise that he was saving a wee world, and larger future.

That seemed more than enough. His cup was full. He was content. He needed nothing more.

But the first days of autumn brought a change that upended his world once more. There came a night when his wife came to their bed with a different demeanor. Almost shy where she was usually bold, she hesitated in his embrace and whispered in his ear that everything would change again.

He was going to be a father!

And so his cup—so recently full—now overflowed like a fountain.

**RSVP**

Dr. Anne Possible pulled the cardboard cup of steaming coffee out of the vending machine and arched her back to work the kinks out. As one of Colorado's top brain surgeons she had full access to three different coffeemakers in the doctors' lounge, each with its own ready supply of premium blends, each freshly ground and recently brewed. Perversely, she preferred the generic sludge that had been reheated inside the old two-quarters-and-a-dime machine in the ER waiting room.

It would be romantic to think it reminded her of her internship days but, back then, she had been quite the java snob, toting her own exotic roasts in a magnum thermos. Perhaps as you got older, she reflected, it was the simple things that held more appeal. Her job was a daily reminder of how the complexities of life could all be suddenly reduced to a single tombstone or forty years of memories lost to a clotted vein or the stroke of a scalpel.

Loss could come from mere chance and happenstance just as surely as the sinister machinations of unidentified enemies out to do you harm.

_Kim was not dead_—she felt it in her heart of hearts.

Her daughter was too strong, too resourceful to be permanently damaged by the assault. It was only the thought that her best friend, her boyfriend, the man who had seen her through each and every crisis in her life—the _hideous_ concept that Ron could so utterly betray her in such a terrible and unexpected manner—that had set her back on her heels.

_Of course_ she had run off.

To protect herself; maybe even believing that it was necessary to draw her attacker away to protect her own family.

But once she had had sufficient time to recover—to _think_—she would realize that Ron would never, _ever_, do such a thing!

And, if she didn't?

Well, Kim would call home eventually and then she would make sure that her daughter understood how groundless those fears were.

"Please, God, let it be soon," she whispered as she stepped outside into the ambulance bay area.

Dr. Morgan was outside sneaking a cigarette. Which he dropped and stepped on surreptitiously as soon as he saw the red-headed surgeon approaching.

"Dr. Possible."

"Joseph," she smiled, refusing to stand on formalities.

"I'm—ah—waiting for an ambulance," he stammered.

Anne's smile turned into a grin: Dr. Morgan's smoking habit was no big secret but he always tried to pretend that the evidence was unnoticeable when he was caught off-guard.

"Well, then, you're in luck," she said, joining him in ignoring the tendril of white smoke seeping out from under his shoe. "Here comes one now."

The siren had been audible as soon as she stepped outside but it was growing louder with each passing second.

"A large SCW, they said."

She lifted an eyebrow. "Anything about a head trauma?"

"Not that I know of. But you're welcome to stick around, just in case."

They were yelling now, just to be heard over the wail of the siren. So they stopped as any further communication would be pointless until both the transport and the din had stopped.

The ambulance rolled smoothly across the bay and executed a three-point turn so that it was backed up to the entrance in a matter of seconds. The back doors of the vehicle popped open and both paramedics jumped down. The turned and began giving directions to someone in the back as they eased a gurney out and onto the pavement so that the wheeled legs were fully extended and locked into travel mode.

The woman on the stretcher had a companion by her side.

A young blonde woman.

A familiar-looking young blonde woman.

"Tara?"

The blonde girl looked up. Her smile was tremulous.

"Oh, hi, Mrs.—I mean Dr.—Possible. Fancy meeting you here."

Anne smiled. "I believe that would be my line." Then she noticed that Tara's hand was inside the patient's bloody chest wound. "What happened here?"

"I'll tell you what happened here," one of the paramedics groused. "Little Miss Ride-along decided to play doctor and stuck her hand in the patient's chest."

"I can see that," Dr. Morgan said. Let's get them inside and up to the OR."

"I'll help until you can get a team assembled," Anne added, wondering how one of Kim's old cheerleader friends had come to be involved in such an unusual sitch.

"Gwen Daniels, thirty-two," the other paramedic began as they moved the gurney along at a slower than normal pace so that Tara could keep her hand in the wound without losing pressure on the bleed. "Fell off a ladder and impaled herself on the post of a wrought-iron fence. Large sucking chest wound. Tachycardic in the 140s. BP holding in the 90s."

"How's her respiratory effort?" Dr. Morgan wanted to know.

"Absent breath sounds on the right side," the first paramedic answered. "Air bubbling on the side of the wound. She's shocky and getting a little cyanotic."

Dr. Morgan had his stethoscope out and was checking the patient's heart rate as they passed through the automatic doors and headed down the hall toward the elevators.

"Wait? We're not going to the ER?"

Anne frowned at the paramedic. "Straight to the O.R., young man." She turned Dr. Morgan. "Let's get her intubated and place an occlusive dressing over the wound."

Dr. Morgan nodded and looked at Tara. "And who are you?"

"Tara. Tara King."

"And I understand that you're a ride-along?"

"Yes sir. First year med student." I've been taking night classes to get my EMT certification so I could work my way through college and double up on my medical experience."

Anne was shocked. Tara had always struck her as a "wide-eyed blonde," code-speak for "dumb blonde." However, admission to medical school in the United States was based mainly on a GPA, MCAT score, admissions essay, interview, and volunteering activities, along with research and leadership roles in an applicant's history. While obtaining an undergraduate degree was not an explicit requirement for a few medical schools, virtually all admitted students had earned at least a bachelor's degree. A few medical schools offered pre-admittance to students directly from high-school by linking a joint 3-year accelerated undergraduate degree and a standard 4-year medical degree with certain undergraduate universities. Upperton U had just such a "7-year program", where the student received a bachelor's degree after their first year in medical school.

But Tara would have had to complete a series of prerequisites, consisting of biology, physics, and chemistry, along with credits for calculus, genetics, statistics, biochemistry, and humanities classes. Kim had started auditing a couple of college level courses in her junior year but Tara would probably make her daughter look like an academic slacker by comparison.

"And why do you have your hand inside my patient's chest?" Dr. Morgan continued.

"Well, I tried to tamponade the wound with gauze and pressure but the only thing that would stop the bleeding was my hand. Every time I try to move it she starts bleeding out."

"Yep," Anne concluded, "it's always the quiet ones."

"Well," Dr. Morgan opined as they entered the elevator, "I don't recommend paramedics stick their hands inside a patient's chest and certainly not ride-along trainees, Miss King. But, by doing so, you may have saved this woman's life!" He hit the button for the O.R. floor. "Not you," he said to the two paramedics. "Your job is done but I'll be requiring this young lady's assistance—or at least her finger—for awhile, yet."

"I'll see that she gets home," Anne added as the doors closed on the EMTs. She turned to the former cheerleader. "Well, you're in luck, Tara. Dr. Morgan is going to perform a thoracotomy and you're going to have a front row seat."

"At least until Dr. Possible, here, can manage to clamp the bleeder," he elaborated. "So, at least half a thoracotomy for your viewing pleasure."

Tara smiled. "Spankin'!"

**RSVP**

"The kid's got moves, Betts, but she's not her cousin."

Shego and Betty Director we standing in the observation booth, looking out over the training room below. Joss Possible was tumbling around on the mats knocking down three different Global Justice agents that were coming at her. Unfortunately there were six in all and the other three had her pinned in another two minutes.

The head of Global Justice nodded. "She's sixteen, Sheila. And she's only been in training for a couple of months."

"The princess was already bustin' moves at fourteen. She's already behind the curve."

Betty sighed. "It doesn't matter at this point. She's too young to be in the field even if she was Kim-times-two. The Possible family won't let her go on missions until she's eighteen and has legal right of consent. Apparently they weren't aware of just how dangerous some of Kim's missions really were."

Shego frowned. "Then what are we doing here?"

"We need a stand-in," Betty answered, heading for the door. "Kim's disappearance left an awful hole in our already frayed network. The chaos from the Lowardian invasion has produced more criminal activity than usual and word is starting to get around that Team Possible isn't doing anything about it. The bad guys are getting emboldened."

Shego followed her down the hall to the elevators. "Yeah, Doctor D was brooding a little just the other day about how he could be ruling the world if Kimmie and the Buffoon had disappeared a little sooner."

The woman with the eye patch whirled on her and hissed. "_Don't_ call him that! _How_ can you call him that when you've seen what he can do?"

She took a step back and raised her hands. "Jeez, Betts! Just semi-quoting, here! And cut me some slack: the whole blue glowy thing is brand new. I spent the better part of the last four years watching his pants fall down."

At that moment the elevator doors opened and a couple of GJ personnel walked past.

"I have something to show you in my office. We'll come back to this subject there." Dr. Director turned and entered the elevator. Shego followed after a moment's grudging hesitation.

"Sooo, this problem of finding a substitute princess," Shego said after a few uncomfortable moments of silence, "I'm kinda surprised you haven't asked me to put on a red wig and take out my navel ring..."

The other woman sighed. "If it comes to that...but there are several other approaches to try, first."

"Candidates?" She felt a little unnerved that the director hadn't laughed off her Kim-personation joke.

"Yes. Joss could be helpful in training the right candidate. She's a huge fan of her cousin and has been fanatically studying her moves for years."

"Yeah, but her style's not a pure copy. She's developed something like an amalgam of Possible's and Stoppable's styles. It's an eerie blend."

"Really?" Dr. Director frowned thoughtfully. "I hadn't picked up on that. Are you sure?"

"Betts, you may have a crack team of research analysts but I've been throwing down with the two of them for the past four years. When you get your ass kicked by a teenager with no special powers and your lair destroyed by a guy who can't figure out how to work a belt—time after _time_—you study their moves real thoroughly! On top of that, I spent some time in the locker room with Skipper down there and guess what came up in the girl talk?" She scowled. "Ugh, I can't believe I said the words 'girl talk'!"

They exited the elevator and headed down the hall.

"Ron Stoppable," Betty said.

"Ro—wait! You know?"

"It's in Kim's diary. I came across the entry when we were looking for clues as to where she might have gone. It seems her cousin became quite taken with Ron during a visit a couple of years back and his posters have taken the place of Kim's in her bedroom since then."

They entered the director's private office and she closed the door behind them.

"Joss is just one resource." She motioned Shego to a chair and rounded her desk. "Wade Load has compiled a mountain of data from their missions. And we might bring in a couple of tag-a-longs who actually accompanied Kim on a mission or two." She rummaged through a file drawer in her desk and pulled out a folder marked **Secret: Eyes Only**. "A Monique Jenkins and a Bonnie Rockwaller. Also having some peripheral involvement with Kim-style is the vice principal at her school and her grandmother who, according to her military service records, was a woman who could _do everything_ back before women were allowed to do _anything_. Once we have screened and vetted an appropriate pool of candidates, we'll enhance their training with the people who may bring some additional insights to the Kim-factor."

"So you think Kim is replaceable?"

"Given enough time, we may be able to insert one or more substitutes into the game. I even have a couple of other angles that we're working on. Our biggest problem isn't going to be replacing Kim." She tossed the folder to Shego and sat down behind her desk. "The problem is going to be the Ron-factor."

"I heard about that," Shego said, opening the folder and pulling out a thick stack of papers. "I thought that study was mothballed when the data didn't pan out."

The director steepled her fingers. "The genius of the Ron-factor is that it isn't measurable or quantifiable by ordinary means. Even right in front of us, with hours of video and terabytes of scans, we couldn't decipher it. It's like a stealth power or talent that turns chameleon to keep Ron under the radar."

"Then how did you come back to it?"

"You said it, yourself, Sheila. When a guy can throw ten-foot aliens across the city and stop an invasion that the combined military forces of the world couldn't even slow down, you go back and recheck your data."

"And what did you find?"

"It's all there. Or probably not. But enough to tell us that when Kim called him 'potential boy,' she was guilty of serious understatement!"

Shego started skimming the overview: "Personality: mirror opposite of Kim Possible. Appears to lack ambition but this now appears to be more an issue of boredom due to his superior intellect..." She looked up. "You have got to be shitting me!"

Betty waved a hand. "Keep reading."

"Type B-personality most likely either a conscious or subconscious construct, masking a vast array of talents, skills and problem-solving abilities. (See Zorpox Section)." She blinked. "Oh yeah. I forgot. They're so different that it's easy. And here I was just thinking the other day, if I could only..." She began to smile.

Dr. Director's eyes narrowed. Well the one eye narrowed and her eye patch crinkled up a bit. "You could only _what_, Sheila?"

"Nothing! Nothing..." Shego returned to the summary. "Shows remarkable maturity for an adolescent. In addition to remaining cheerful and upbeat under personal circumstances that would crush most well-adjusted adults and, with rare exception, looks for the best in others even when their treatment of him would motivate most to do otherwise."

Shego's gaze slipped from the page and seemed to focus on something in the distance. "Yeah. I used to think he was just clueless. Then, after a couple of exploding lairs, I figured it was just a big put-on to annoy me. Sort of his way of mocking us and pretending that we were beneath his ire. Made me want to fry his face off…"

"But…?" Betty prompted.

"Hmf…finally figured out that he was genuine, hard-core _nice_…" Shego's lips twisted on the last word and she paused. "Made me all the madder. If it wasn't for Kimmie keeping me busy…"

"Yes. Well. That's all in the past, now," the head of Global Justice said carefully. "Right? Sheila?"

The former villainess ducked her head and continued reading. "He is highly resistant to peer pressure and unconcerned with appearance and fads, which he considers shallow and transitory. Seemingly goofy behavior masks advanced social skills that allow him to interact effectively with a wide range of personality-types, special-interest groups, and social strata." _Ought to add comfortable with lipping off to foes while they're trying to kill him,_ she thought. "Serves as a balancing factor to his partner's over-competitiveness and character defects while always providing encouragement and support. Unquestionably loyal." She looked up again. "I wonder if the princess ever took that into account when she fell for the old 'my attacker looks like my best friend' ploy?"

"Face it, Shego, we all went there until the lab results came back."

Shego felt a strange emotion well up inside her. Vaguely familiar, it took her moment to place the unusual feeling: _shame_. She dropped her head and continued reading. "So total is subject's devotion to his best friend and mission partner that his periods of self-doubt and non-competitiveness seem to be rooted in Kim Possible's overbearing and hyper-competitive tendencies. Never wishing to overshadow his partner, he frequently backs down in order to allow her to shine or finds ways to problem solve a situation in a manner as to make his success look accidental or attributable to others." She sighed.

"The perfect partner," Betty Director observed. "Or should I say: the perfect boyfriend?"

"Get out of my head, Betts!" she tried to snarl. But her heart wasn't really in it.

"Fighting prowess: Ron Stoppable is frequently able to evade numerous henchmen—humans and synthodrones alike—and, at times, has emerged victorious from unevenly matched contests. Examples include multiple encounters with marital arts master Lord Montgomery Fiske, numerous unidentified ninjas, and the incapacitation of forty duplicates of the _Team Go_ hero: Wego. (See Case File: Stop Team Go.)" _I remember that,_ she thought. _Wendell and Wesley still can't figure out how he did it and they had forty different perspectives on what happened._

She skimmed the next section on Ron's alter-ego, Zorpox. Her own file on the blue-skinned, evil mastermind was much more thorough as she'd had a front row seat on the two occasions that Ron had turned evil. She kept telling herself that it was prudent to keep intel on your most formidable foes. But, in her heart of hearts, she knew that the real motivation was a little villain-crush on the ultimate member of the Evil Overlord Club. Shego liked her men to be bad boys and dangerous and no one was badder or more dangerous than Zorpox.

The interesting thing was his transformation from bumbling sidekick to ultimate threat only involved a change in moral orientation, not actual IQ. Apparently Ron's intelligence quotient was off the charts when his self-restraints were lifted. _So what was keeping it in check the rest of the time?_ She felt herself blush as she thought about some experiments she might like to try on loosening his self control.

"I know what you're thinking," Betty sing-songed.

"Shut up!" She ducked her head and skimmed the next couple of pages.

There was an interesting section on his phobias and fears. More interesting were the notations on how many he had actually conquered over the past four years. Another section, a psychological profile actually, analyzed speech patterns revealing that he frequently integrated words and concepts that would be challenging to a doctoral candidate and then masking these clues to his true intellect with oddball words and phrases like "booyah" and "badical."

Several paragraphs followed on his apparent obliviousness to members of the opposite sex with a note that he might be hyper-aware and repressing it to prevent the more dangerous elements of his psyche to come to the fore...

_I wonder what that means?_ Shego mused. She glanced up to see that damned woman with the eye patch grinning at her.

"Ron Stoppable's motto, 'Never Be Normal,' may be a necessary assessment of his unique psychological profile and abilities. It is probably patently impossible for someone with the physical talents and mental skills hidden in such an unassuming package to lead any kind of a normal life. The world should probably be grateful that he tries so hard to utilize positive (if not always popular) outlets for his unique powers and abilities."

Other, sub-files and reports in the folder discussed his world-class culinary talents, his acrobatic prowess as team mascot, and athletic skills as an overnight football sensation and extreme sports competitor.

A section on Ron's two encounters with the mutant amphibian known as "Gil" surprised Shego. Her respect was growing for the non-Zorpox side of Kim's boyfriend (_former boyfriend_, a voice whispered in her head) especially seeing how he repeatedly overcame his greatest fears and phobias to do what needed to be done.

Little unexpected talents like songwriting, dancing, ventriloquism as evidenced at a school talent show were a surprise. His successful impersonation of the Fearless Ferret and foiling evil plots on his own. A unique ability to effectively communicate with different animal species, including giant insects. Notations on inventions such as the foaming Mad Dog head and The Naco, indicated further depths and..._holy crap! The boy was a multi-millionaire! _She had helped relieve him of his original Naco royalties but hadn't realized that the royalty checks were still rolling in!

Shego growled softly to herself.

"I know," Betty said with a sad smile. "Kimberly Ann Possible is an idiot."

"We're all idiots," Shego agreed. "Anything in this psychological assessment indicate how he might feel about a slightly older woman who has returned to the right side of the law?" She grinned to show she was kidding but the smile felt false.

"Redacted."

"What? I'm _in here_ someplace?"

"Not that copy. Like I said: redacted. Along with potential responses to older, opposite gender, authority figures with monocular vision."

"Really?" Now Shego's grin grew genuine. "What did it say?"

"Inconclusive. Though he did like Angelina Jolie in that _Sky Captain_ movie..." Shockingly, uncharacteristically, the head of Global Justice giggled. Then she grew serious and extended her hand for the files. "So, now you know why I take exception to you ever referring to Ronald Dean Stoppable as 'the Buffoon'."

_Great! Just great!_ Shego thought. _Now that I've finally got a shot at the perfect boss-slash-boyfriend without the princess to run interference, I may have to compete with a woman who's more powerful than the cheerleader and a hell of a lot hotter!_ Even though she didn't say this out loud she was afraid it would show on her face, in her posture, the moistness she felt across her forehead and…_elsewhere_…

"So, Betts," she said to change the subject, "I think you're making a big mistake with this—what did you call it?"

"The 'Possibities Project'?"

"Yeah. You don't need a stand-in for Kimmie. You need to fill the big hole left by Ron Stoppable. I mean, who needs the poodle if you've got the big dog? On the other hand, I don't think Kim, herself, could be Kim without Stoppable in the mix."

Betty put her head in her hands and ran her fingers through her short, dark auburn hair. "The problem is, we might be able to find a substitute for Kim. With Ron, nothing will do but the real deal."

"Ron Stoppable is not Ron Replaceable," Shego mused. "Well," she said, rising a little too quickly. "I guess the important thing is to go find him."

"You're needed here, Sheila."

"I'm taking some vacation days. What I do on my own time—"

"I'm not authorizing vacation time, right now."

"Oh, bite me, Betty! I'm not one of your Global Justice froobs that you can order around!"

Dr. Director was on her feet and leaning across her desk. "You're supposed to be working _with _me—"

"I am! My style! Former villainess, remember?"

"Emphasis on 'former' or 'villainess'?"

"Don't push it, Betts! I'm going to Japan. How much of that trip coincides with your interests depends on how I walk out of here."

They glared at each other for a long moment. Shego had mistakenly thought that two eyes to one would give her an advantage in any stare-down competition they'd have. The eye patch, however, seemed to up the intimidation factor and she fought the urge to look down.

"Fine!" Betty's hand slapped the intercom button on her desk. "Will? I need you to arrange transport for two to Japan!"

"So you've heard?" Will Du's voice crackled over the tiny speaker.

"Heard what"

"Japan was just hit by a massive earthquake within the last hour!"

"What? How big?"

"We don't know specifics, yet. The reports are just starting to come in. But it's bad, Director! It may be the most powerful quake in recorded history!"

"Then I'm going to need special clearance to land! Get right on that! And get me my transport!"

* * *

**ABOUT THE CHAPTER TITLE: "Calm Before The Storm" offers a little foreshadowing of what's to come. Chapter One turned things upside down but there is a greater storm on the horizon…**

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**_Author's/Notes: _**

**_I hope the Kim/Ron shippers will forgive me but this chapter reminds me, once again, of the great difference between Yori and Kim in their respective relationships with Ron during the series. Yes, I know that Ron could be childish and annoying and that Kim had to bear the brunt of that while Yori had the benefit of Ron at a distance and in small doses. Also, her cultural training and upbringing caused her to see some of his flaws as merely "screams of courage" and "American-style humor." Yet Kim could also seem less than appreciative of Ron's risks and sacrifices while Yori seemed to bring out the best in him, causing Ron to step up in ways that he never could when he was standing in the shadow of his best friend since Pre-K. _**

**_As my returning readers already know, I'll be fleshing out some of the secondary and tertiary characters as the story unfolds, which brings me to Tara. It seems easy enough to cast our platinum headed cheerleader in the role of "dumb blonde" as some stories are wont to go. But I like to think that she has hidden depths. After all, she saw something "dateable" in Ron before anyone else—including Kim. Bonnie might think that's dumb but I see her as being smart and shy and trapped inside others perceptions of her outward appearance. The girl has hidden depths, and we're going to have fun getting to know her a little better._**

**_We also get a transitional scene for Ron in the eyes of others. Granted, the whole world is seeing the forgotten sidekick in a different light ever since he repelled the Lowardian invasion and the internet videos went viral, but this little confab over a review of his mission files reminds Betty & Shego, as well as the rest of us, that Ron had the real development arc over the four seasons of the show. Kim was awesome out of the starting gate but Ron really grew over time and has shown hidden depths and talents. _**

**_Although the question arises in the readers reviews for this chapter, I originally addressed the "earthquake" issue in my notes at the end of chapter 5. Given the way that the story unfolds, I'm going to leave them there for now and your questions may be satisfied then. If not, drop me a line… R~13_**

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**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 4**

Pavelius 3/28/11 . chapter 4

Oh.. did you include the actual earthquake or was this planned from the beginning?

_**Planned from the beginning and before the real world events unfolded—see my notes at the end of the next chapter. R~13**_

And for the Kim-replacements... i would like to see a Team Bonnie & Monique... constantly gossiping and chatting about fashion during the fighting scenes

Keep up the good work and don't overwork yourself.

**_Thanks, Pavel. The whole "Team Possible" pairings will evolve more slowly than I had originally anticipated. I hope you will be patient. R~13_**

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anon 3/28/11 . chapter 4

dude you are brave as hell for going with the earthquake as a catalyst. hope you dont get burned for it

**_Me too! R~13_**

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battousai222 3/28/11 . chapter 4

nice chapter!

**_Thanks, man! R~13_**

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readerjunkie 3/29/11 . chapter 4

Nice work so far can't wait to see more of the story

**_Thanks! Reader reviews are the wind beneath my wings. R~13_**

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Uberscribbler 12/2/12 . chapter 4

This is probably the first in-depth, canon-adhering profile I've read of Ron since discovering this particular genre. Its...unsettling.

Okay, so we know where Ron is and what he's doing to heal from this attack. Where the frack is KP, and just how badly is she going to take the attack on Ron (and the collateral damage involved)?

**_Unsettling? Good…I kind of like that. I hope you will be patient with me. I'm working on a big canvas and will be taking my time with some of the reveals. Kim will show up eventually—boy, howdy, will she ever! But the story arc is "Ron-centric", as I like to say, and the distance put between them will not be quickly overcome. If at all… (insert sinister laugh) R~13_**

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_Some Dude 8/24/13 . chapter 4 _

Mind. Blown.

I had never even thought about Ron like that. How did you even come up with that?!

**_I could have given more details/examples but it would have bogged down the chapter too much. Everyone forgets the Ron Stoppable story arc across 4 seasons to his ultimate greatness. I blame the KIGO stories for overwriting our memories. _**

**_;-) R~13_**

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_dbzsotrum9 12/30/13 chapter 4_**_ . _**

well it can't be helped, people always take their family for granted, but the 2 of them took each other for granted and had issues; Ron wouldn't take Kim for granted as much because he felt that he nearly lost her to Eric and was constantly reminded by others that she was outta his league... Kim and Ron were so close that they had issues, Yori who wasn't with Ron since she was 4 could look up to Ron in ways that Kim never could because they were too close, too comfortable and too together...

and minus the mystic monkey powers, if Ron had 1 talent, it was destruction; even if he had little skill, he was a natural at destroying things and causing issues for Kim and for the enemy

that said, in the start, Ron was mostly getting in Kim's way; in fact, he really only got great after he got the Mystic Monkey powers... so he kinda had a cheat sheet, Kim didn't...

_**While I agree that Ron did seem to get in Kim's way on more than a few occasions—he was the "comedy relief" after all—he still accomplished a number of impressive feats without the MMP. The solo mission to keep Kim from fading into oblivion and the one with holo-kim that got him monkeyed up in the first place, as well as the other non-MMP talents mentioned in the chapter. Not everyone can rise to the occasion on American Starmaker with a spontaneous Naked Mole Rap…**_

_**And the impressive doomsday tech that he threw together when his inhibitions were lowered as Zorpox—the whole Drakken's evil blue glow thingie didn't explain how Ron was so much better at the tech than the professional supervillain. My point or points were that Ron had hi0dden depths that rose to the surface over the four years of the series while Kim remained a bit of a one-note, hyper-competitive overachiever from her Freshman through her Senior years. **_

and aren't you down playing Kim a bit much? She is beyond Olympic level in everything she could do... replaceable? While she couldn't take down 3 super villains and a side kick alone, she was also not in the best emotional state and was going through issues... but having just one of those skills make her amazing, but she's at a professional level in extreme sports, was able to learn how to pilot a spaceship from watching a monkey doing it once, 16 martial arts, still having A's and being cheer captain and still having free time and fun...

**_Maybe I am guilty of downplaying Kim a little. She really is "all that!" But, I think what they were discussing was the gestalt that Ron brought to the mix-that, without the Ron Factor, maybe Kim wouldn't be all that she was. Ron is sort of the "wind beneath her wings." Other stories here have explored that theme, seeing Kim crash and burn a little without Ron in the relationship. I said from the beginning that this would be a Ron-centric tale and, so, it's more about Ron than it is about Kim. In fact, Kim will be in the background for some stretches as the story unfolds... _**

There probably isn't a single person in our world who could actually match Kim & in the KP universe, only Shego could actually match her (Yori could match her in martial arts, not sure about everything, plus juggling all that Kim did)... Joss has the same potential...

in retrospect, only Monkey Fist (who should be around the same age as Shego & Drakken) could match Ron... and Hana could eventually replace him...

basically, the same number of people that could replace Kim could replace Ron, 1 person older than them, and one person younger; and the thing is that Kim's abilities came from herself and figuring it out on her own; Ron had a cheat sheet, heck, most of his martial arts came from said cheat sheet... and if Kim didn't have to play with her cousin, then she'd have also have had a chance to get that power and match the boy and maybe have 17 styles...

**_Tru-dat. And I totally get what you're saying about natural and "earned" skills and abilities vs. magically inherited powers. Gotta say, though: in the end, Ron stopped the invasion and kept Kim's spine from decorating a Lowardian trophy room. Of course, Kim saved him far more often than he saved her. But part of that was the journey from weakness to strength. Kim was awesome from episode 1. Ron sort of grew into his awesomeness over four seasons. It's not just the MMP and the Lotus Blade. And the fact that he's not as fast or as strong or as smart or as naturally gifted as Kim sort of makes him even more heroic for having her back all along the way._**

that said, I do believe that Ron is awesome and deserves lots of love and all and even if he got the power from a cheat sheet, he's badass... heck, one of the reasons he's so awesome when he's evil is cause he's a natural destroyer (he had issues when he was good before cause his talent was destruction, he caused harm to the good guys and bad); I do 100% love Ron and I liked him even better cause he was the 1st to realize that he loved Kim before she realized she loved him ...

**_If you love Ron then I think you will enjoy the story. Just have faith that-even though he's going to make some serious mistakes-things will get sorted out. Eventually._**

Sorry, but pure K&R shipper, ya know...

**_I hope you'll stay with the story, Dbz: because you'll get Evil Ron and Badass Ron and several other Rons as well as more than one Kim Possible. Any given chapter is a not a clue as to how the story will end. In fact, just keep repeating to yourself: "Nothing is as it seems; nothing is as it seems..." R~13_**


	5. Afterglow

**Required Disclaimer:** _The Kim Possible universe and all of its characters are the property of the Disney Empire. Is it my fault if someone left the gate open? I just found them wandering around loose and was about to return them. Honest._

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**Chapter Five – Afterglow**

The Uptopian Admiralty had been understandably disturbed by the data and images recovered from the Lowardian probe.

The risks and potential consequences of intercepting such a device in the first place had sent waves through the chain of command, all the way up to the High Chancellor, herself!

Even though the probe was captured and delivered to the Uptopian homeworld without incident—it was just a matter of time before the Lowardians came looking for it. Or their missing invasion fleet, at the very least. So the Chancellor's and the Admiralty's first concerns were that the warrior-race not get any ideas the Uptopians were involved to any degree.

And then there was the issue of the probe's payload, itself.

The data that had been harvested had stunned those with the security clearances to view it in its entirety. The idea that a Lowardian invasion fleet could be defeated was shocking enough. But if they could believe the vids and images in the reports, it would appear that a single, blue entity was sole power responsible for routing the fierce aliens and their formidable technology!

The question was, what should they do with this information?

Some had argued that there might be political advantages in warning the Lowardians. Others felt that such a being posed a threat to their own homeworld, as well, and that the planet should be utterly destroyed along with all life-forms that inhabited it.

And then there was the problem of the blue-hued nemesis of the Lowardian fleet.

He was blue.

Like the Uptopians.

The Lowardians were legendary for their tendency to "shoot first and not bother to ask questions later."

The arguments had been going on for many sub-cycles now and the fleet was being upgraded in preparation for any solution that the High Chancellor and the government might decide upon. Knowing the politicians had no stomach for standing up to the green giants of Lowardia, the preparations were heavily weighted toward dealing with the turquoise colored planet, dwelling place of the blue, god-like being that was surely worshipped by its billions of differently-hued inhabitants…

**RSVP**

Leo Tolstoy wrote: "Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way."

Dr. James Timothy Possible reflected on this as he pretended to sleep, watching his wife of twenty years through slitted eyes. She was changing out of the Victoria's Secret ensemble she had worn in a vain attempt to rekindle the old passion, missing these many months.

Missing since their Kimmie-cub had disappeared.

His wife was unshakable in her belief that their daughter was safe someplace and that it was just a matter of time before Kim returned, safe and sound and probably a little embarrassed that she had been so gullible to fall for the old synthodrone ploy twice.

The rocket scientist was less and less sure as the days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months. Their home had been rebuilt from the ground up and the family cabin that held so many unhappy memories now had been sold. And still there was no word of either their daughter or Ron Stoppable. That latter part of the equation is what troubled him the most. His daughter could be a bit nonchalant—if not totally oblivious—to her partner's unshakable devotion. But the Ronald he had observed for fourteen-plus-years would never be absent from Kim's side for this long. Unless…

The thought shriveled his soul just as thoroughly as his manhood had remained shriveled throughout his wife's best attempts to bring back _that_ family "member" from the dead. Even watching her now he felt a swell of love and regret…but no lust. It was as if he were truly dead from the waist down.

Anne Possible was, by every definition, hot. She could rock a lab coat better than most twenty-year-olds could rock a bikini. And speaking of two tiny scraps of fabric, he marveled at the firm, curved flesh that put most thirty-year-olds to shame, never mind a woman approaching her fourth decade. No stretch marks to hint that she was actually a mother of three. If her breasts sagged a little now it was because they were fuller and heavier now than when they went on their honeymoon. She was curvier, now, and, if anything, age had just improved the whole package.

He knew that. He believed that. At least intellectually. But his heart had grown numb and his "launch vehicle" had failed to achieve liftoff for months now, despite prescriptions for anti-depressants, Viagra, and an ongoing fashion show of erotic lingerie and kinky costumes and toys and role play and creative experimentation.

And, as much as he missed the intimacy and the sensual pleasure and the "stress relief," he was troubled even more by his wife's growing frustration and self-blame and her misguided sense of personal failure.

Unhappy family, indeed.

And that was without factoring in the effect of Kim's and Ron's disappearances on the boys.

Jim and Tim had gone through their sister's room and possessions repeatedly, looking for clues to her vanishing and any potential hiding places where she might hole up until she felt it was safe to return.

The twins were more thorough than the local authorities, the FBI, and Global Justice combined and with Wade Load helping, they were the best hope of finding his Kimmie-cub.

Unfortunately, they were dealing with Kimberly Ann Possible, the girl who could do anything…

…and if Kim Possible did not want to be found, _no one_ was going to find her!

He closed his eyes tightly as his wife slid back under the covers and pressed herself against his back. Even through his tee-shirt and pajama bottoms he could tell that she was naked. Her nipples were like pencil erasers against his shoulder blades and the curly tangle of neatly-trimmed pubic hair rubbed against the small of his back, just above the slope of his buttocks.

He forced himself to lie quietly and continue to feign unconsciousness.

After a few minutes she rolled over and turned on her other side, facing away from him. The foot or so of space that had opened up between them belied the miles that seemed to separate them now during the day.

And he finally remembered.

His wife was a doctor.

She could tell when a body was truly unconscious and when a patient was just faking.

**RSVP**

She had kept the Go Tower under continuous observation for days. A human would have grown bored long before now. A human would have required periods of sleep. Fortunately, she was immune to either failing.

And, after all, she could do anything…

Eventually, her diligence paid off. The others were out. Only _he_ was in. She left her cover and approached the impregnable superhero fortress.

She wore her trademark mission gear but if one were to pay close attention, the ensemble seemed to have shrunk a bit—or maybe she had grown in the past year. The tan cargo pants—characteristically loose to allow for more freedom of movement—were tight now, riding much lower on her hips while cupping her derriere like a second skin and leaving no doubts that the fiery redhead liked to go "commando." The black crop-top was likewise form fitting, riding up higher on her ribcage to just under her jutting breasts. The fabric was sufficiently stretched in such a way as to indicate that the young woman eschewed brassieres as much as she did panties.

The young man who opened the door to Team Go's fortress of family dysfunction noticed all of this immediately.

"K-kim Possible! Wow! I mean, where have you been? Everyone said you disappeared."

"Hi Mego," she said with a dazzling smile. "Mind if I come in?"

"Uh, sure! Hego and the twins are out right now but I can call them and tell—" A finger landed gently on his lips.

"I'm not here to see them," she said conspiratorially, "I'm here to see _you_. To ask for a favor…"

"Uh, well, sure! Come on in. What can I do for you?" he asked as he tore his eyes away from her torso and turned to lead her inside.

"Well, how about something to drink for starters," the redhead purred. "I'm awfully thirsty and…hot..."

"Well, um, sure! What would you like?"

"How about a beer?"

Mego's awkwardness kicked up a notch. "Er, we don't keep any alcoholic beverages in Go Central…"

His guest leaned up against him. "C'mon, Mego. I know the big blue dolt thinks he runs the show but I bet you've got a six pack squirreled away in your personal quarters." She ran a finger down his abdomen as if to suggest a little double entendre.

"Okay. But promise me you won't tell anybody," he squeaked as they got into the elevator.

"Oh, Mego, trust me: anything we do while I'm here is not going to end up being blabbed to your brothers!" She gave the narcissistic, purple hero a smile that promised all sorts of Kim "Possibilities."

Inside his personal quarters, he hurried around, picking up clothes and tidying up as the teen girl sat on his bed. "Don't worry about all that," she said, setting a cardboard box down beside her.

"But it's a little messy," he stammered, kicking some worn underwear under the bed.

"I kinda like messy," she retorted. "Well some things, anyway. Some things—the messier, the better. Know what I mean?" She looked around the room. "Play your cards right and maybe your room will get even messier before we're done..."

Mego stopped in his tracks and dropped a pile of clothes back onto the floor.

"Now, where's that beer you've got stashed?" she asked.

Mego produced a six-pack in record time. As he handed a can to his guest, she said: "Let's play a little game."

"A game?" Mego's mind was racing. Kim Possible would be what, now? Nineteen? Twenty? He was twenty-seven. That blonde kid was nowhere around. Maybe she wanted to upgrade. And who wouldn't want him? He was a superhero with comet powers. He was smarter than the others. And—

"Truth or dare," she elaborated. "The first one to finish their beer gets to go first."

He snatched his up, pulled the tab, and was swallowing before she could even find the tab on her own. He finished his in less than a minute while she was barely getting started.

"You win!" she said, settling back on the bed. "You get to choose: truth or dare."

_Need to be smooth_, he thought. _Don't get too freaky on the first question…_ "Truth. You've been missing for the better part of a year," he said, feeling his tongue go a little numb. "Where have you been and what were you doing?"

She smiled. "I've been on a secret, undercover assignment for Global Justice," she said, toying with the covers of his bed suggestively. "If I told you where I was and what I was doing, I'd have to kill you."

He laughed and she laughed along with him. "Well," he said. "You didn't answer the whole question…"

"Well," she teased back, "technically you asked more than one question." She sighed dramatically. "But I guess I'll let you score by imposing a dare on me."

"A-a d-dare…" Mego was starting to feel the effects of that hastily chugged beer.

"Yes…" She smiled seductively. "But before we get too carried away maybe I should ask for that favor, first."

"F-favor?"

"It should only take a minute."

"Sure. What is it?"

She sat up. "My dad's birthday is coming up and I got him this present…" She opened the box beside her and pulled out a clear glass bottle. A bottle with a model ship inside. "The problem is, the main mast is a little crooked and the sail has slipped off one side of the yardarm."

Mego could see the problem quite clearly. It would be a simple fix, except for the problem of the model being inside of the bottle.

"The guy who built the model is on vacation for a couple of weeks but I'd like to give this to my dad this weekend," the redhead explained. She lay back down with the bottle nestled between her breasts and the open spout hovering a couple of inches above her belly button. "Do you think you could…pop in…and fix it before we go any farther?"

Mego didn't require any further invitation. He crawled onto the bed between her legs and began shrinking as he approached the open end of the container. Striving to be a gentlemen—at least for a few more minutes—he climbed up onto her knee as he diminished to the eight inch mark rather than scale her body at the juncture of both thighs.

He was four inches tall and still shrinking as he stepped down onto the quivering plain of her belly and walked toward her navel. She giggled, causing him to stumble and fall, his face and hands sliding against her surprisingly cool skin. As he picked himself up, her finger came over to help him up to the mouth of the bottle.

It was going to be a tight fit—his mind momentarily wandered to the possibility of other "tight fits"—and he shrank a little more to squeeze himself inside. His powers of shrinkage were not infinitesimal: he couldn't make himself much smaller than an action figure. It took a bit of squirming but, eventually, he was all in.

He grew back a bit so as to reach the mast but, as he walked down the length of the model ship, the bottle shook a bit causing him to slip on the bottle's curved interior. He looked over his shoulder, just in time to see a tight rubber stopper fill the mouth of the bottle and slide in deep. The sudden increase in air pressure caused his ears to pop. Then the bottle upended and he fell to the bottom with balsawood schooner crashing down on top of him.

A pair of mischievous green eyes regarded him through the distorted glass sides of the bottle turned prison.

"Got ya!" she said. "And like I promised, I won't be telling your brothers that I was here…"

**RSVP**

So you save the world and your face gets plastered across every media outlet, magazine cover, and internet blog: bad news if you want any privacy after that. Want to know how to make it worse? Drop out of sight for a few months. That will guarantee a hysterical response the next time you pop up anywhere in the civilized world.

After a couple of unfortunate trips down the mountain to nearby cities and towns, it was decided that the best thing for Ron (not to mention a particular, super-secret ninja school) was for him to stay at Yamanouchi and let someone else—_anyone_ else—run errands in town.

And so, on an unseasonably warm day in mid October, Yori Stoppable bade farewell to her husband with a kiss and a fleeting embrace, and hiked down the mountainside to replenish her supply of prenatal vitamins and pick up some delicacies at the market in the next town over.

Ron spent the morning at the school, teaching the children a new series of katas. Then he fetched a sledge and an axe and hiked a couple of miles to a band of old growth forest a couple of miles below the tree line.

He had been careful to harvest a tree here and a tree there, thinning the overgrowth rather than clearing a larger area. This permitted a more rapid grow-back and allowing the remaining trees to flourish as they had less competition for sunlight and water.

Cutting firewood for cooking and storing fuel for the winter was a year-round task and Ron had found pleasure in the work. Not just the satisfaction of helping others but in the physical gratification of working up a sweat, expending energy, breaking down and rebuilding muscle while actually accomplishing something of value. Workouts and exercise, while healthy pursuits, rarely produced anything outside of improving one's own physical health and combat readiness. Not that these were unimportant goals, to be sure, but pushing his body to similar extremes while creating a product that could be enjoyed by others was far more satisfying. He still worked out with the other ninjas—both students and masters—but his work with the axe had built up his chest, back, arms and shoulders while hauling the sledge filled with wood back to Yamanouchi had done wonders for his legs and wind.

And lately he had been working more with saw and adze as he brought back larger logs to build another room onto their hut. He wouldn't call their quarters cramped, just comfortably snug. His and Yori's needs were few and their possessions fewer. That would change next summer, however, with the arrival of their child. So Ron was now experiencing the additional satisfaction of building something with his hands. He wasn't an architect or a contractor but, while the task was a little more daunting than creating a foaming Mad Dog head as mascot, it was a lot less complicated than the all-terrain plasma catapult and the global weather generator he had thrown together during his first outing as Zorpox.

He had grown three inches since graduation day. In height, that is. He'd also added additional inches to his arms and chest. Hard work, fresh air, and a scarcity of junk food agreed with him. Plus he was sleeping less and yet waking better rested than he ever had in his life—summer vacations included!

There was nothing like great sex to utterly relax you and give you deep, satisfying sleep afterward. Both Ron and Yori had come into their intimacy as virgins. Yori, however, came from a culture where women were expected to please men, particularly their husbands, and she had access to ancient texts that revealed all sorts of physical disciplines and methods—some for physical combat, others teaching "grappling" techniques to a different purpose. The Indian culture might boast of the _Kama Sutra_ but it couldn't even begin to approach the unbridled eroticism of ninja sex.

Last night had been amazing. It was as if she knew that the time was coming when they would no longer be just a couple.

The arrival of a baby would change their nights as well as their days. That special intimacy between two young, vital lovers would change to accommodate the full-time presence of a new and needful member of their family and they looked forward to that time joyfully. But it seemed that wife and lover felt a greater urgency to celebrate their passion for each other while their privacy was still sacrosanct.

Swinging his axe into a tree he'd selected for the ridge beam for the new roof, his thoughts drifted back to last night.

Ron was familiar with athletic female physiques—visually that is—from years of drilling and performing with the Middleton High Cheer Squad. While the abbreviated cheerleader outfits flashed plenty of leg and torso, weekend and summer practices usually involved casual dress that was even more titillating. And then there were those bikini car-wash fundraisers... Ron smiled. All of the cheerleaders had had badical bods but, when his wife disrobed, they all seemed very plain and ordinary.

And lately she had grown even more beautiful. Her body was becoming more lush, her breasts and belly more taut and rounded. Every time she arched up against him he'd wished he could just fall into her, become wholly one with her opulent flesh. He suspected that she had felt the same, trying to claw through his back last night when she came in a thunderous orgasm. They took their time after that, building slowly, steadily, their hips pounding like the solid axe blows that Ron was now applying to the great tree, the rhythm of his strokes matching his memory of last night's thrusts. When they came a second time she had bitten his shoulder to stifle her cries and drawn blood. He had come to believe that Yori had a very talented mouth but nothing she had done recently had aroused him as much as the intensity of her love bite. In a daze of bliss, he had kissed his way down her stomach and, nuzzling between her velvet thighs, had whispered words of love to the new life growing within her. She came again at that and her third orgasm was almost frightening in its intensity.

Ron paused, letting the axe rest while he wiped the sweat from his brow. He never could have imagined that he could be this happy. Even if his life had continued along its former course and things had worked out with KP…

He frowned.

As a rule, he never let his thoughts go there.

The wound was still fresh, still raw, still incomprehensible beneath the bandage of Yori's love. To even think of another woman, much less her former rival who had denigrated her even as she had verbally attacked Ron and his little sister…

He pushed his train of thoughts onto another set of tracks: _Hey, Hana was going to be an aunt!_

Even as he concentrated on breaking the joyful news to his family, he couldn't shake the feeling of sudden disquiet that had fallen over him. A cloud passed in front of the sun and he shivered.

_Something was wrong…_

He listened and heard…_nothing_.

There was no birdsong. No soft susurrus of insects and crickets.

The world was absolutely still; it seemed to be holding its breath…

And then the ground began to move.

* * *

**ABOUT THE CHAPTER TITLE: "Afterglow" is often that term used to describe that feeling of contentment or bliss after an intense sexual encounter. I was looking for something evocative of Ron's state of mind, and the peace and contentment he has found here in Yamanouchi with his wife and growing family.**

* * *

**Author's/Notes: **

**_I'm never quite sure where the boundary line lies between a "T" and an "M" rating. For example, Ron's musings on his love life with Yori: I've seen more "hardcore" scenes in "T" rated stories on this site and I would consider the descriptions here to be so "softcore" as to almost be out of focus. Your thoughts?_**

**_Now, as to the "Earthquake" issues. During the six months prior to my _****_first_****_ RSVP postings I was kicking character and plot elements around and the events of the next two chapters were roughed out fairly early. Japan is an island country that has endured generations of disasters—from wars and typhoons to volcanoes and earthquakes to tsunamis and the atom bomb. It was by pure coincidence that I had plotted the next few chapters before the true life events of March 2011. In the aftermath, the question was whether to go ahead and write this section of the story as planned or go completely back to the drawing board. _**

_**I have a professional author friend who had a similar problem when he was writing a novel about New Orleans being hit by a monster hurricane. The book was nearly half done when Hurricane Katrina came along and turned the fictional horrors into reality. The publisher encouraged him to continue and after it was published he was thanked by a number of readers for telling a compelling story—albeit a highly fictional one—that kept people mindful of the real tragedy long after the media had moved on to the next story of the week. He said that a lot of people write "ripped from the headlines" stories for profit and, since that's an established and even time-honored genre in the writing community—and I'm not making one thin dime from this project—I can hardly be accused of exploiting a tragedy for my own profit. The only criteria should be, he said: are you showing respect for the tragedy and people caught up in the events, both real and fictional? If you are mocking, belittling, or denigrating the pain of real people in your fiction then you have a different issue.**_

_**In deference to that advice and the events that have transpired in Japan, I did rewrite one major plot point. Originally, the epic disaster was to have been man-made in origin and part of a larger, villainous plot. I decided that creating a parallel tragedy to what is happening in Japan and attributing its malevolence to a cartoon villain would be disrespectful. So, I hope that I am honoring the courage and resilience of the Japanese people as will many of the other stories that will be written in the days, months, and years to come. R~13**_

_**P.S. There will be another plot point down the road that was already planned before real events jumped out ahead of me. You'll know it when you see it…**_

* * *

**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 5**

vase 4/1/11 . chapter 5

Now that's what i am talking about a Ron who is shown to be a man and show love for a woman who loves him unconditionally. I sense there is soon to be tragedy in life but at least you do have him pine away like a castrated monk after being dismissed by the fake Kim.

It hasn't been discussed but how has Kim reacted to being manipulated and the loss of the real Ron. She's had to have been told by now and recovery she have begun.

Must say rape is one of topics that makes me cringe but lets move on. The Shego and Betty scene with them going over the Ron factor is the best both women are old enough to see that Kim was the luckiest woman alive having Ron at her side.

More Ron growth please

**_Hopefully the re-editing of the first couple of chapters has clarified that Kim was only attacked and her attacker fled after "only" striking her once. An unpleasant scene but not as bad as some might have originally imagined._**

**_The journey ahead for The Chosen One will be a long and convoluted one. He'll know love and pain and loss and victory, as well. Like most journeys, there will be both ups and downs. And, I hope, more than a few surprises. Ron growth? Yes! Other characters growth? You betcha! R~13_**

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Pavelius 4/1/11 . chapter 5

I didn't want to flame you.. i was just curious about the earthquake-thingy (and like you explained it, it was planned from the beginning).

**_I didn't mean to suggest that you were flaming in any sense. You've been very supportive. I merely took a cue from your and _****anon'****_s comment/question and figured that I might avoid trouble down the road with a positioning statement._**

Anyway.. onwards to the recent chapter.. i have got the feeling, that Yori will die or at least have a miscarriage... i hope you pull the "sitch" that will happpen quite good.

Keep it coming...

**_I can't tell yet, how this story is generally going over, yet. I think a lot (if a lot is an accurate descriptor) of my readers are still waiting to see where this thing is going before deciding if they're going to commit to the ride… R~13_**

* * *

**(8/9/11)**

_**Got an amazing PM from **_**eckles71**_** with some very astute insights into the characters and their relationships—he's read the initial 31 chapters at this point. He's given me some useful ideas as to how some of these relationships should "rank" and why…) R~13**_

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Sentinel103 2/9/12 . chapter 5

So far Rip this exeeds the original. Much better indeed.

Larry (Sentinel 103)

**_Thanks! R~13_**

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CajunBear73 12/3/12 . chapter 5

Life goes on for Ron, but then a legacy of the islands strikes. 'Kim' seems to be wreaking havoc as called upon...Something is not right in Middleton.

And now from far away we see a future intrusion..?

CB73

**_Not so long ago in a galaxy not so far far away… R~13_**

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Uberscribbler 12/3/12 . chapter 5

No, you're doing a good job here. I honestly can't tell if that's really Kim or not, and having the planet decide to upheave at this particular moment (using all the logic and rationality that only a living world is capable of achieving and comprehending) makes a nice counterpoint to our all-too-human assumption that we control events. Wonder if 'mastermind' is going to discover this little lesson with minimal or maximum collateral damage?

**_Not sure about Kim? I see that you're taking my advice: trust no one. Especially the author! And I wouldn't count on the "lesson" thingie: Mastermind is crazy! No, really!_**

Speaking of which, while I can't fault the Uptopian analysis of their little intelligence windfall...an entire planet worshipping Ron is just so...um...well, it's hard to put into words what kind of imagery this invokes. "Utter, mind-breaking hysterics" doesn't quite cover it. Wonder what Rufus thinks of such things. Probably shrugging his tiny shoulders and digging back into that eternally-renewing cheese wheel that is his unique paradise.

**_"Utter, mind-breaking hysterics?" Not sure what you're trying to say here. I KNOW you're NOT mocking The Ron-man! The Olympian ideal of pixie scouts everywhere, the legend of "D" Hall, the man who elevated pants-dropping to a high art form, and—who was so intimidating—that self-avowed genius Drew Lipsky was constantly too terrified to remember his name and women on three continents were constantly turning him down out of their own, deep-seated sense of inadequacy…wait, you're laughing at me again… R~13_**

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_Some Dude 8/24/13 . chapter 5 _

Thanks for clearing that up...I would of thought it was messed up if you used such a horrible event to further your own story.

**_Yeah, well, it's not just the tsunami-as you will see shortly. R~13_**


	6. A Farewell Wave

**Required Disclaimer:** _Kim Possible and the world she inhabits exist in the Disneyverse and I do not. Me no Disney writer. Me am bizarrofanfic scribbler. That all. (Hmmm…a future Kim Possible fanfic set on Bizarro's home world…?)_

* * *

**Chapter Six – A Farewell Wave**

"Du! What's the hold up?" The director of Global Justice was not used to being kept waiting and she had been sitting in the cargo bay of the C-130J Hercules for over an hour. "I have a gold-double-alpha priority status to commandeer this flight!"

"Sorry, Director," Agent Du answered over her wrist communicator, "All I know is somebody else has red-triple-alpha status and we're officially locked down on the tarmac until they're on board."

So she sat and fumed while Shego napped on a makeshift cot she'd thrown together out of cargo netting and storage pads.

Over the years the mint-colored woman had learned to catch cat naps on the go as Dr. Drakken's plans were often unexpected and changeable on the fly. Betty, on the other hand, was used to planned itineraries and pre-arranged accommodations. Even now she considered herself "on duty" and found it difficult to just relax while waiting. She leaned back against the un-cushioned bulkhead, closed her eye, and thought again about the official purpose of this mission.

Despite their best efforts, no one had a clue to Kim Possible's whereabouts. Apparently the "girl who could do anything" could also elude every law enforcement agency and intelligence network that had been on high alert since last July. Their Intel on Ron wasn't much better but at least they had narrowed down to one country. And not just Japan but a secret school hidden up in the mountains. Of course, seventy-five per cent of the island nation was made up of mountains so they still faced a real _(heh)_ uphill climb in narrowing those search parameters. But interviews with classmates, records of Stoppable's past flights and Intel from a deep cover agent positioned within the Nakasumi Corporation had provided enough sparse data to deduce a probable search zone of a thousand square miles.

Hey, only looking for a needle in a haystack, now, as opposed to _ten thousand_ haystacks!

So why was the head of Global Justice chasing off to Japan to look for an 18-year-old kid? There were field agents for grunt work like that.

It was because they were running out of time, she told herself. The _Possibilities_ _Project _was paramount. Team Possible had left an awful vacuum in their wake of its dissolution. And trying to find a replacement for Kim had proven to be even more _im_possible than she first suspected.

Shego had nailed the problem when she said that there were only two viable solutions. Any substitute for Kim—or even Kim, herself—would fail without the so-called Ron-factor. And, if they had Ron back, it was questionable whether they would even need Kim. Pair him with any GJ operative, even Shego and…Betty opened her eye and considered the cat-suited curves of the other woman. _No, not Shego!_ She should be honest with herself: the main reason she was taking to the field, herself, was to keep those green curves as far away from Ronald as possible. _Still not being totally honest._ Okay, maybe she wanted a more "hands on" involvement with the next phase of the _Possibilities_ Plan.

She was thirty-five—young by administrative standards. Her "equals" among men were mostly twenty years her senior. And up. She couldn't exactly fraternize with the people under her authority. And no one outside the organization could understand her or share in her life in any meaningful way due to the secrecy, responsibilities, and long hours that came with her oath of service to Global Justice. Ronald Dean Stoppable, the heart and possibly the soul of Team Possible was the exception. He understood the challenges of balancing the exceptional duties and challenges of global missions with the mundane realities that still had to be maintained and observed. He knew the loneliness of those burdens, the isolation of being different…

And he was turning into a magnificent young man.

_Who was almost seventeen years younger than herself!_

She slumped further down on the jump seat. At least he was out of high school and technically "legal" now.

Still, _seventeen_ years…

She knew he wasn't necessarily turned off by "older women." There was a notation in his file's psych-profile. His response upon seeing Shego's pictures for the first time had been…well, definitely not negative. But then, maybe a predilection for long-haired, green-skinned, bad girls offset the seven-year age difference. Add another decade for a paramilitary bureaucrat with a less feminine hairstyle and the Nick Fury eye-wear. _Yeah, dream on, Betty…_

But at least a girl can dream and she had nothing better to do while she waited. So she allowed her mind free reign as to her own "possibilities fantasy".

**RSVP**

It was a three hour descent from Yamanouchi to the foot of the mountain and another hour's walk to the nearest village.

Ron's feet barely seemed to touch the ground as he all but flew over the rough and treacherous terrain. Terrain made all the more treacherous by the hideous aftershocks that seemed to roil the earth every few minutes. He had never experienced an actual earthquake but had had enough equivalent experiences with exploding lairs and self-destruct sequences to know this was bad—_very bad!_ A couple of acres of exploding real estate didn't hold a candle to thousands of square miles of ground rippling and rolling like ocean waves.

The earth broke apart with a tooth-rattling growl just ahead and Ron leapt across a sudden five-foot chasm without breaking stride. It was hard to think about anything but where to place his feet, one step after the next, second by second, running and leaping full-tilt-boogie. At any moment he might trip and fall, shatter his ankle, drop into a newly formed crevice, go hurtling over the edge of a sudden drop-off, slam face-first into a tree or boulder, yet he dared not slow his descent. _Yori was down there!_ Trapped in a death-maze of collapsible buildings and a mare's nest of downed power lines, broken gas mains, and out of control fires. Worst of all, she would run _toward_ the danger, not away from it, seeking to help others. Not thinking of herself.

Air rasped in and out of his lungs like a fiery crankshaft and his heart pounded painfully against the cage of his ribs. Guilt and duty tore at him as he passed the detour toward Yamanouchi: what if the school had collapsed? Were the children all right? Sensei? The others? What if his mystical abilities were needed to sift through the rubble for survivors? To lift broken buildings to free trapped families?

He shook his head. The students and staff had each other for the immediate emergencies and he would be back as soon as he knew _she_ was safe. The inhabitants of Yamanouchi had each other. He only had _her_.

Without her he would have nothing!

So he passed by the detour and continued down the mountain, running for his life. If he was too late then he would have no life.

_**Ron-kun?**_

It was a three-hour descent by the hidden foot-path.

On the bucking and fracturing slopes, Ron and leapt the distance in something like forty minutes.

_**Oh! Ron-kun!**_

The voice in his head emerged slowly from the noise and static of his worried thoughts.

_Yori?_

_**Hai! I am safe, Saiai**_**.**

At times he had felt that silent connection with her, generally when they were touching, cuddling, but rarely when they were farther than a single room apart. Fear and need and a little MMP were probably boosting the signal, allowing him to hear her, almost visualizing her face as she wiped the sweat and grime turned to mud from her brow.

_I was so worried!_ he sent.

_**And I for you!**_ He felt her smile. _**You are out of breath, Ron-chan: don't tell me that you have been spanking the mystical monkey while I was away?**_

_What? How can you joke? Where are you? _

_**Just a mile or so from the hidden path…**_

He skidded to a stop just short of the precipice that served as the first lookout point over the valley. There he could see the plain, nearly a thousand feet below, as it curled into a valley bordering another mountain to his left and sloped down toward the distant shore a few miles off to his right. Straight ahead he could see her, still a mile off as she trudged from the smoking ruins of the distant village. A straggling line of survivors surrounded her and struggled along behind in an uneven queue.

She saw him in turn—he _felt_ it, first—and raised a weary arm to wave.

_**I am bringing guests for dinner. You might warn Sensei and the others. Are they well? Is there much damage?**_

The shame he felt was bad enough. It was so much worse not being able to hide it from her.

_**But I am honored, my love. And humbled that you would place me before all other concerns.**_

_You and our child_, he reminded her.

Her absolution did not fully free him of a sense of shame. He was reminded again of how easily he surrendered to his deepest fear. That fear had not only bested him once again, it constantly cast a long shadow over his daily—even his moment to moment—happiness. He still couldn't trust that the world wasn't waiting for him to relax his guard, to believe in his good fortune, to fully embrace the contentment that was finally his. Fate, he imagined, was not unlike a cosmic Bonnie Rockwaller: waiting for him to look the other way so it could trip him, laugh as he stumbled and fell, and then call him "loser" with a cosmic, capital L as it sauntered away; another triumph of the Cosmic food chain having dumped him back down to the bottom of existence where he belonged.

But maybe, just maybe, he pondered as the fierce burning light in his otherwise dim, grey life approached, _this_ would break the curse.

Hadn't this proved, once and for all, that maybe he was destined to be happy? That a quake of the magnitude that surely had sundered lovers and even entire families, had not invoked the Stoppable loser-curse? Surely, if they could survive a disaster of this magnitude, there was nothing that the world could throw at them that they could not survive and overcome, safe in the bonds of their love.

Smiling, he began to make his way down to the plain to welcome his wife, his soon-to-be family, and what would appear to be several hundred new friends and potential neighbors before starting the climb back up.

Together.

**RSVP**

**Dear Hego**, she typed on the giant view screen in the Team Go War Room, **Sis was right: being purple sucks. Being a superhero sucks. Most of all, Team Go sucks. I'm splitting. Going away to find myself. Just give me my space for now and don't try to find me. I'll get back in touch when I'm ready. Mego.**

She checked the duct tape she had crisscrossed over the rubber stopper and the neck of the bottle. The bottle, itself, was tucked inside of a thick steel sleeve to discourage any attempt by the miniaturized superhero to grow his way out of his glass prison.

That didn't stop him from dismantling the toy ship for tools which he used repeatedly to try and dislodge the stopper. She gave the container a shake as she prepared to leave. "Settle down, Beavis, or I'll drop a couple of spiders in there to keep you company."

_Too bad Mastermind wants him alive for now,_ Synthokim thought as she took the elevator back down. _Maybe when he's done, I can still set him up on a date…with a black widow. _

**RSVP**

Periodically a large, slightly pear-shaped man would appear, lugging a crate or a stack of boxes which he secured to the sides and floor at the rear of the plane. It distracted Betty from her increasingly R-rated fantasies. She roused herself, figuring that she might as well see if he had any info on their departure. It was that or she'd be edging into NC-17 daydreams in another ten minutes or so.

She stood and stretched, working the kinks out of her back and shoulders. The man happened to turn at that very moment and was treated to a view that should have held his gaze for a few extra seconds: a statuesque woman in a form-fitting uniform and the form that it fit was impressive to say the least. Betty wasn't oblivious to the effect she had on the opposite sex, it just wasn't important to her. Except on those occasions when the male response was inappropriate.

And this man, whoever he was, was acting in a most inappropriate manner: _he looked right through her as if she wasn't even there!_

And then walked back down the ramped tailgate to bring another load of containers back onto the transport from a tram down on the tarmac.

Betty Director thrived on challenges. She moistened her lips, ran her fingers through her short, dark red hair, and unsnapped a couple of closures at the front of her uniform. Then she moved to intercept him on his return trip, positioning herself to block his access to the adjacent storage area.

"Excuse me, Ma'am." he said, his voice almost remote in its indifference," but the doc wants these units stowed as quickly as possible.

"Really?" _Ugh,_ she thought, _too breathy! I sound like a bad Marilyn Monroe impersonation._ "What's in the boxes?"

"I'm not cleared to talk to strangers. You'll have to ask the doc."

She licked her lips and leaned forward a little, giving a slight aggressive thrust to her breasts. "And where is the…doctor?" she asked, all wide-eyed and invitational.

The man just looked at her. _And not in the way that a man was supposed to!_

Damn! She was either getting too old or getting too rusty. She hadn't tried to flirt with a complete stranger since…since…crap! She couldn't remember the last time. She hadn't been on a date in years! Her personal life hadn't just been put on hold these past four years; it had withered away to nothingness, turned to dust, and just blown away. She hadn't taken a vacation in just about as long. She really was turning into one of those automatons that R and D was attempting to build and program as a Kimbot.

She realized that the man was still standing there, waiting for her to move. He motioned over his shoulder. "Ask her."

Dr. Director stepped out of his way as she saw a blonde woman walking up the ramp and into the cargo bay. She was wearing a low-slung, short black skirt and loose vest with a multitude of pockets. The vest hung open to reveal a purple tube top that hugged a shapely top and uncovered a lot of midriff.

"Are we squared away, yet, Ollie?" she called.

"Just these last three boxes, Viv," the big man answered.

Betty eyed the curvy, blue-eyed blonde and was a little relieved. No wonder he hadn't been interested. If he was involved with this new arrival he'd hardly have eyes for any other woman. That had to be it.

Or else he was gay.

Or maybe a robot. _Yeah, right..._

"Excuse me, Miss," she asked as the blonde drew nearer. "Do you know when the doctor will be arriving?"

The blonde just looked at her and smiled.

**RSVP**

Ron had descended nearly five hundred feet when he felt the approach of the storm.

The sky had darkened a bit but it was the shift in the wind that was the first real sign.

A steady breeze was coming in from the ocean, now, exhaling a cool moistness that felt like the clammy breath of a corpse.

There was a rumble of distant thunder.

Down below, the hoard of survivors began to stumble into a run, bumping into one another as they seemed to awaken from their numbed and disheartened shuffle. One of them fell and, as Yori moved to help that one up, she was knocked to the ground where she tripped a half dozen others coming up from behind.

"Yori!" he yelled. He reached out to her.

_Something_ passed between them.

A pale, bluish haze seemed to coalesce around her, shrugging the others aside like an invisible barrier.

Slowly she struggled to her feet as the others moved around her like a river parting around a boulder, flowing to either side and moving on down the course. Some of them were screaming now but their voices were thin and smothered by the growing volume of the thunder.

And then he saw it.

A massive wall of water, rising up and up, at least thirty—maybe as much as fifty feet high. It was coming in from the distant shore and it stretched as far as the eye could see.

A preliminary wall of cool wet air preceded it, a false wind pushed by the water, itself.

And that wall, that giant wave looked nothing like the curling blue epics of surfer movies and tropical beaches. It was a dark, churning curtain filled with the violence of uprooted trees and rocks and tons of earth and the grinding, flensing edges of smashed automobiles, shattered masonry, and slivers of roads and railroad tracks and bridges.

As it came it seemed to pick up speed and the wind before it grew in velocity until it howled like a gale, almost drowning out the thunder of the rushing wall of water boiling behind it.

A shadow fell across the plain as the sun was lost behind the giant tsunami.

"Yori!" he screamed again.

And somehow he threw himself down the mountain and across the plain to where he was standing right beside her.

The wall seemed to tower directly over them and yet, he could see, it was still a few miles away.

"Oh, Ron." she moaned, glancing at their certain doom and then gazing up at the place on the mountain where he had stood just moments before. She began to weep. "How will you survive this?"

_I don't want to survive this if it means losing you!_

"But you must," she sobbed. "And not just because you are the Chosen One, not just because you have a destiny yet to fulfill. But for a much greater reason! A more important reason!"

_None of that matters_, he told her. _We are together, now. And we will be together, wherever this takes us, next._

"Hai! We _will_ be together. But not for a little while. For now, you must live because I _love_ you. You must live because you are _needed_ here. You must live because I would not have you come to me in the time and place of our next Dwelling while you are still so broken. There are still evils to be undone…"

_No more talk_, he told her. _Just hold me._ And he made to embrace her but his arms passed through her trembling body as if she was already a memory.

And then a billion tons of sea water and sludge slammed against the blue barrier that enfolded them like a bubble of elsewhere.

The initial blow brought Ron to his non-corporeal knees, its raw force nearly crushing him into unconsciousness and death. And it did not let up. A thousand hammer blows followed as the battering rams of trees and rocks and man-made refuse slammed against the mystical blue bubble that was shivering near the brink of dissolution.

"Ron-kun, listen to me!"

_I'm here, Yori! _He could hardly think, hardly breathe: it took nearly every shred of his will and his heart to hold the bubble in place against the unthinkable forces threatening to crush them and add their pulped remains to the churning mass of debris.

"I do not know what Kim-chan has done to send you so far away from your home and friends. I was selfish to use your pain as an opportunity to turn your face to mine without helping you to seek reconciliation."

_Please, Yori! _he gasped_. _So_ not the time…_

"Listen! We have only moments! I cannot believe something that seems so hurtful, that could be so evil as to wound you this deeply—could be a _true_ intention of your osananajimi, your chikubanotomo! There is some misunderstanding here and, until you know the truth, you cannot truly live beyond it. Even now, it still festers in your heart. I thought I could heal your hurt—"

_Oh, Baby, you did! You did! You took away the pain! You made me—_

"No, _Saiai. _You are not _whole_, yet. The wound still weeps within. Go to her, my love. Seek the _truth_ of it and only then will you begin to truly heal. If you would come to me unbroken, you must do this.

_Yori—_

"If you will not do this for her and you will not do this for you, then do it for me. And do it for our daughter who will wait for you, with me, until you join us in our next Dwelling."

The strain was growing incalculable. The one tiny spark of hope that had sustained him through the miasma of pain and nausea of maintaining the bubble was that if he could last long enough—the waters would roll back into the ocean and Yori would be safe.

But now the hard truth was seeping into his consciousness just as the filthy black water was beginning to bleed through the failing blue membrane.

"Oh, Ron-san! If you ever truly loved me, promise me something!"

_Oh, God! God! Yori, I—_

"Promise me!"

_I promise, I swear to you!_

"Promise that you will _live_ and not let this destroy you! Promise that you will not close your heart but let it open to light and warmth wherever you may find it! Promise that you will _live_ to honor me and my love for you by finding love, again!"

_What about you living to honor me?_ he cried. His own heart was failing, collapsing, even faster than the bubble around them.

"It has been _my_ honor to love you! That is why I am not afraid now. Not for myself. Only for you. I _love_ y—"

And Ron felt the breath in his lungs explode as he fell back against the stony face of the mountainside.

Hundreds of feet below the inky waters churned and crashed up against the higher reaches of ground like an angry, vicious predator.

Then, with a sound like the sighs of a thousand weary ghosts, the inland sea retreated back toward the distant beaches. It took with it tons of fresh earth, a new forest of shattered trees, and a slender arm that bobbed to the surface of the receding tide. That arm appeared—to Ron Stoppable's tear-dimmed eyes—to wave a gentle farewell before sinking into darkness once more.

* * *

**ABOUT THE CHAPTER TITLE: "A Farewell Wave" could be considered a play on words as the last Ron sees of Yori is her arm, seeming to wave at him as her body is pulled back out to sea…as well as the tsunami being the "wave" that tears them apart. We'll just go with her gentle farewell wave…**

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**Authors/Notes:**

**_It's too easy for a writer to lose perspective and think more of their work than their readers—sometimes its ego and sometimes its just being too close to something and lose the perspective that comes with time and distance. How many of us have written things that we thought were great only to go back a couple of years later and go "what was I thinking!" Still, I'm surprised at the emotion that I feel when I revisit Yori's death scene. Probably not so much my prose as the idea of the character, herself—and I can take no credit for that._**

**_I've rethought Dr. Director's age issue raised by _****Pavelius****_ and I've made the first of two adjustments by re-editing Chapter Six. A great example how reader feedback can help an author fix problems or improve their story. Look for the second adjustment to come into play down the road. Also, you never know when someone's observation or suggestion will show up in the story later. _**

**_I can't say too much about some things because I think it's more interesting for them to unfold in their proper place and time. That said, I know where Kim is. You'll eventually know, too. Along with "developments" in the "Possibilities Project". But not right away. Not without an occasional, obscure clue, that is. And how do I respond to certain comments without seeming confirm guesses or tease you with falsehoods? Is Yori truly dead? Will Kim and Ron ever be reconciled? Will it all turn out to be a dream in a snowglobe in Norway? Will it all end in a huge, KIGO/RONKKEN musical number? Hmmm, I might get more reviews going with the latter…_**

**_That said, I promise nothing! Except to try to entertain you without being too disrespectful to the characters as officially established…_**

**_As always, reviews and feedback are appreciated. Highly motivational, in fact._**

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**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 6**

vase 4/5/11 . chapter 6

wow can't say i didn't see that coming will Ron have the fortitude to go forward. Short chapter but timely so thanks for update.

The scene with Betty waiting for the plane to take off seemed rushed or incomplete and bland hope you add a little more meat and not just go for cliff hangers this is a good story otherwise.

**_Hi vase! I make no promises about cliffhangers but I have gone back and fleshed out the shorter chapters, adding more scenes, etc. I've gone back and massaged the waiting for the plane to take off scene but I'm not sure how to make it better. It was mainly done to get inside Betty Director's head a little more and introduce Dr. Vivian Porter and Oliver, her robot, into the mix. R~13_**

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_readerjunkie 4/5/11 . chapter 6_

Wow amazing chapter. Can't wait to see more.

**_Thanks RJ, your enthusiasm motivates me to do more! R~13_**

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_Pavelius 4/5/11 . chapter 6_

Ah.. darn... you really killed Yori... poor Ron.

And i am really interested in what happened to Kim... and if they have another chance together...

For the rest... only 29? Hmm... they didn't state the age in the show but i thought she is at least mid-thirties or something...

Anyway, its your story and its good and I hope you keep updating...

**Good point about the age. I've fixed it. R~13**

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_pbow 4/7/11 . chapter 6_

You have a very deep and interesting story line going on here... I'm on board. Potential Boy has been burned again with the loss of Yori and their child and it will be interesting to see how Ron recovers from this blow. I'm also dying to find out what happened to Kim.

I must say, thought, (and this is just my opinion,) that you're wimping out by not following your initial story line with the earthquake being villain-made. Your author's notes/explanation at the end of chapter 5 is reasonable, but it's a cop-out. Sure, you would've received some flames; there are people out there that will flame at the least provocation. Personally, I wouldn't think you were playing off the recent tragedy in Japan, but that's only due to knowing about the weeks or months of planning that go into writing a story like this. Again, this is just my opinion and it's your neck on the line, so I'll abide by your decision in changing the cause of the quake.

On a side note, I've lived through a couple of earthquakes in Los Angeles and you described them perfectly! You have a marvelous writing style and I look forward to reading the rest of the story.

Keep up the good work.

Live Large,

pbow

**_Welcome aboard _****pbow****_ and thanks! You're probably right about wimping out. And not just on the quake thread. I'm holding back on some other threads, as well—at least until I get a feel for my audience and work on my balancing act for when things start to pick up... R~13_**

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_John dartblade 2/6/12 . chapter 6_

man I haven't read any fanfiction in a few years but i was glad to stumble upon this story, that first chapter scared me a bit with the whole kim killing rufus thing but once it got to the end it made sense lol, also this last scene with yori is also very meaningful and i totally understand what you mean by how it gets you, its great keep on writing,

PS: i dont know if you did this on purpose but the scene when kim (i presumre the synthodrone) goes to capture mego, you described the original mission outfit, I was just curious if you did that on purpose not using the newer mission outfit made by Monique in the 4th season, just curious

keep it up

John

**_Welcome aboard _****John dartblade****_! Glad you stuck around to see where this is really going (although people who have read twenty chapters ahead might say they still don't know)! Good question about the updated mission outfit. Obviously, the old-school outfit is better recognized and, on a more mature woman, a bit more blatant in its sexuality. Since Synthokim's mission is to distract and seduce Mego into the bottle, it makes sense for her to dress this way. Although the classic mission outfit will return in other ways down the road… R~13_**

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_Uberscribbler 12/5/12 . chapter 6_

Never let it be said this author doesn't find some way of worming in genuine, human tragedy into something so mind-numblingly big as a tsunami hitting.

**_(Heh-heh…you said "worming!")_**

I don't really believe KP is working for this mastermind, btw. I'm not sure what KP is doing, period. I'm even less sure what I have a handle on what's happening here, period. The first couple chapters, okay, that was clear. It rapidly got clearer by chapter three. Since then...lots and lots of suggestion, but no actual clarity. Its almost like the author wants to keep teasing out little details that, innocuous as they are at the moment, will be vital and even hingeworthy later.

**_First you're moved to hysterics at the idea of the whole planet worshipping Ron Stoppable as a god and now you're suggesting that "Kim" seems a little OCC? Why can't you just accept everything on the page at face value? Alright, so you're got going to fall for that, either…_**

Then again, we're talking about someone who broke Team Possible by snapping the smallest member's neck. *That* invites respect. And awe. And not a little fear.

**_Good point: other reviewers have disappeared from this story site and they've never been heard from again…(insert Señor Senior Senior villainous laugh here) R~13_**

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_Sentinel103 12/5/12 . chapter 6_

It was well written, you had to show Yori in this manner I suppose to make the rest of the tale to work.

ST-103

**_Thanks! I don't think Yori strayed out of character, given the circumstances. Although I'm not sure about the whole leading a group of homeless refugees up the mountain to a secret ninja school would have flown… R~13_**

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_Some Dude 8/24/13 . chapter 6 _

You're a dick. Scratch that, you're an asshole. How could you do that to Yori! I'm honestly debating whether I want to continue reading.

AHHH! I so hate you right now!

**_Yeah...I hate me a little, too... _**

**_:-( _**

**_R~13_**

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_loganhunter2 chapter 6 . Jan 10_

I've got nothing. ..just wow am i gonna have to start a kill counter that's 2 canon and an unborn child ...Holy crap you should read atack on titan you light hearted stuff lol ...but good story so far

**_Thanks LH. A couple of interesting suggestions...a "Kill Counter at the beginning and end of each chapter...hmmmm...I like it! Unfortunately, it would be difficult to pull off. You'll see why eventually but I can't give anything away, yet. As for "Attack on Titan"? I'll file away the idea of gigantic, cannibal humanoids for a possible appearance in RSVP III. Or maybe the Zombie Apocalypse will be excitement enough... R~13._**

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**_G. Login chapter 6 . Jul 4 _**

I am confused you aren't finished part 1, you started part 2 and you removed the chapters from part 2. do I just disregard part two for now? Is it that you have decided on some changes to part 1 that is why you took down 2? Yuri died :( but I figured since to summary of 2

_**Sorry G. I took down "all" of the chapters from Parts I & II for the re-edit so people wouldn't be jumping around between the edited & the unedited chapters while the process was under way. The reason the first chapter of Part II remained in place was because removing it deleted the entire file from the FanFiction dbase and deleted all of those reader reviews, as well as removing it from any favorites, follows, and communities lists. I just figued folks were familiar enough with the previous version that they would wait until the reposting of the actual end of Part I before jumping to Part II. I hadn't actually thought about "new" readers who were unfamiliar with the fact that there will be 43 chapters in Part I before we're ready for Part II.**_

_**If Part II looked like I was moving ahead with a repost there, it was only because I was adding an additional warning to the beginning chapter there to avoid future confusion. Guess that worked well, heh. **_

_**So, yes, you disregard Part II until I get all 42 chapters of Part I redone. As for Yori? We may never know... R~13**_


	7. Atonement - Part I

**Required Disclaimer:** _Kim Possible. Disney. Not me._

* * *

**Chapter Seven – Atonement – Part I**

All that he wanted to do was crawl into a deep, dark hole and die.

That, at least, would be easy: there were thousands of deep, dark holes, not to mention gaping fissures and yawning chasms, now.

Instead, he had been on his feet for days now, sitting for ten minutes here and dozing for twenty minutes there.

Yamanouchi had no need of him: the earthquake had had little effect so high up the mountain.

And the tsunami had crested far below...

His own hut had appeared strangely untouched, yet...the sense of _devastation_ he now felt within its rooms was too great to bear.

Like a mystical paradox wrapped up in an unfathomable riddle, his _home_ had been utterly and irrevocably destroyed. While the building, itself, was exactly the same as it was the night before.

No tools, no materials, no skill nor craft could repair what was broken here. If another couple were to move into this hut, they would think the walls strong and sure, and believe the roof a dependable shield.

They would not see how fragile this place really was.

How any happiness, any joy, could be crushed and mangled and brought low in such an unhappy dwelling...

So he protected those that might come after him: he burned his hut to the ground. And, once the fire was out and the ashes were cold, he said a silent goodbye to Yamanouchi and walked down the mountain to the chaos below.

He walked from house to house, then village to village, checking each pile of rubble, crawling through collapsed buildings, separating the living from the dead. Here he would find newly orphaned children and there, freshly grieving parents, and bring them into each other's temporary care with a few whispered words, a hug and a prayer. Then, as soon as possible, he would move on.

He could not stay and look after another life. There were others to do that work. All he needed to do was to help them find one another. He couldn't be a caretaker. Not when he had failed to take care of the most important person in the world.

_How was it that he couldn't have held on just a little bit longer?_

He had utterly failed her.

It really was very simple, not a mystery at all: he _was_ a failure.

He would _always_ be a failure.

All that his god-damned blue glow was good for was lifting collapsed walls off of broken bodies, hearing failing hearts beating beneath tons of rubble, and finding buried caches of food and medicine for the living who would go without otherwise.

So that's what he would do for now.

Don't think.

Don't feel.

Just do.

In doing there is purpose.

Without purpose there is only despair.

**RSVP**

_It didn't work._

_The purpose thing._

_He did and did…_

_Days turned into weeks…_

_And still there was only despair._

**RSVP**

With great power comes great responsibility.

She had read that somewhere, once.

It was the sort of claptrap that government propagandists and greeting card artists foisted on the gullible to keep them in line and create a mindset of servitude.

Or maybe it was some comic book superhero…

And yet, here she was, starting her second week of leading search and rescue teams while Bitch Betty got her shot at Stoppable, free of the competition.

She sighed as she used a plasma-tipped finger to slice through a pancaked roof on what used to be a three-story house. Now she could step from the sidewalk to the rooftop without much of a stretch.

It was just as well that she was out and away from the true object of their search, she thought: _not exactly looking my best, these days._

She wore a _hakama_ over a baggy kimono with pouched bandoliers now, much more practical than skin-tight cat suits even if they weren't as form flattering. Bathing was a rare luxury as there was little clean water to be had and that had to be saved for drinking. She was grimy _everywhere_—and her hands were positively black from the stew of mud and soot and ashes that she dug through on an hourly basis. Her long, dark hair, once a source of great pride for her, had become a tangled, hideous liability within the first four days: she had hacked half of it off with a pair of broken scissors until it looked like an explosion in a mattress factory.

No.

Social encounters were out of the question for the time being. She constantly wished that she could even stand a ways downwind from herself. It would take more than a month of hot showers and a battalion of hairdressers and manicurists before she would feel anywhere near presentable again.

She growled as she pried up the section of roof she had finished cutting through. Just below lay the remains of a child's room or nursery. Shattered toys and broken dolls were scattered across the buckled floor.

What had she done to deserve this? Dr. Drakken was probably puttering around in his greenhouse right now without a care in the world: reformed hero and all that with a cushy government job and benefits. That whack-job Dementor was likely living in the lap of luxury as usual and, if and when he was caught, would be accorded a nice warm cell with fresh bedding, three square meals, and clean clothes on a regular basis. Meanwhile, she got to slog through the filth and the mud, hungry and thirsty, doing back-breaking labor nineteen hours out of every twenty-four and sleeping on the hard, cold ground! Oh, yes! Somebody was definitely going to pay! Somebody—

She finally realized that the broken dolls she was staring down at were not dolls, after all.

Tiny _bodies._

Another aftershock from the quake struck. Only it was entirely inside of her this time. She felt a dark fault line open in her chest. She trembled on the edge of a larger, inner abyss.

And began to weep.

**RSVP**

_**Stoppable-san...**_

The voice had come nagging as soon as he had set fire to his and Yori's home.

He hadn't answered. There was nothing to say.

Nothing that could be said.

Sensei had sympathized.

Shared his sorrow.

Asked him to stay.

Pleaded.

Then insisted.

He hadn't answered.

There was no point to any of it.

Yamanouchi was fine but its resources were needed elsewhere. Why should he return when all of the other able-bodied ninjas were out, doing as he was doing, assisting the survivors and rescuing those who were still alive?

There was nothing for him back there.

There was nothing for him anywhere.

Just the hope for the eventual peace of sweet oblivion...

_**Stoppable-san...Ron-kun...that is not true! You have-**_

He slammed his mind shut on his ninja mentor's voice, locked it, and hung a _Do-Not-Disturb_ sign on the mental doorknob.

**RSVP**

Dr. Director had spent the first three days in Japan trying to get into the Asian-Pacific Global Justice branch. The catastrophic effects of the earthquake had not been limited to the surface and the GJ facilities, located deep underground, had turned into a deathtrap for the twenty-two agents on duty at the time. It had taken another three days to get the last of the bodies out and she had assisted with the burial details as well as officiating over the all-too-makeshift memorial service that morning.

She was exhausted and nearly as dirty as Shego. The portion of the facilities that was still usable had no water or heat and the power was intermittent and unreliable. But there were no civilized alternatives above ground. The rare hotel that was in any shape to offer accommodations was packed 10 to a room with thousands of refugees camped just outside and spreading out in all directions. And she could not leave until she had purged the computers and filing cabinets of all secret data and sensitive materials. So far, that was half done and the wastebaskets filled with burning files and documents were keeping them warm at night.

The woman sitting on a broken console across from her was a little cleaner and smelled a little nicer but under the present circumstances, everything was relative. The maroon Mandarin dress with the gold trim was torn here and there but there was probably a spare GJ uniform in storage that would fit her.

Kyoko was finishing her report on Nakasumi's disappearance and the likelihood of the plant staying closed for at least a number of months if he did turn up. Which meant that her deep cover agent had no viable mission for the foreseeable future and should be reassigned.

"Do you have any questions for me, Madam Director?"

Betty briefly considered asking her whether she preferred being formally addressed as Yoshiko Kyoko, or Kyoko Yoshiko in the Japanese tradition of placing the family name first. "Yoshiko—may I call you Yoshiko?"

The statuesque Asian woman raised her hand. "Please. Call me Yoshi, if you wish. If the informality is not too premature. I am seriously considering resigning my commission."

"But why?"

Yoshi smiled wistfully and her English lost its "second language" flavor. "Japan is the land of my heritage and I have enjoyed my assignment here. But my parents have lived in America these past eleven years and something as terrible as this reminds one of the importance of family. I wish to be near them as they grow old."

Betty nodded. "I understand. Would you be willing to assist me for just a few more days? If so, I think we could find an assignment closer to your parents—if you're still interested in a life of duty and adventure."

Yoshi put her palms together and favored the director with a traditional bow. "Bitchin'!" she said.

**RSVP**

Dr. Porter flipped through layers of scans on her computer tablet. A number of the images were actual pages of notes with a dozen or so blueprints thrown in. But the vast majority of the materials appeared to be a hodge-podge of doodles, scribbles, and nearly pornographic sketches on a succession of cocktail napkins, shopping lists, and catalog mailers for _Victoria's Secret_. Coffee rings and food stains obscured some of the data and made for indecipherable passages here and there. The overall approach was filled with jury-rigs and crude work-arounds but there were flashes of brilliance, as well.

The question was, was this "Bebe" project adaptable to the new Global Justice Initiative that they were pressing her to head? Oliver was the only humanoid robot she had ever built and, although she had let others think that he was a "human boyfriend" to keep the jerks at bay, the whole idea of human-like robots kind of creeped her out.

And, speaking of creepy, she glanced up toward the search drone monitors and caught that Agent Du checking her out. _Again._

Dr. Vivian F. Porter—renowned robotics expert, certified genius, and four-time recipient of the Asimov-Clarke fellowship award for outstanding achievements in the fields of cyber-science—was used to men looking at her. She was young, blonde, blue-eyed, and hot. She had tried to downplay her appearance after she graduated _summa cum laude_.

It was one of the few things she had _not_ been successful at.

Eventually she gave up on trying to blend in with the mousy, nerd-chicks. If you've got it, flaunt it; right? It was kind of like what that friend of Kim Possible (what was his name?) used to say: "Never be normal!" So if guys were going to look at her? Let 'em look.

As long as they were respectful and not creepy.

Unfortunately, this Du character the director had assigned to her was one of those guys whose egos were all out of proportion to their actual appeal and attractiveness. Why was it that she seemed to intimidate the nice guys while the self-styled "bad boys," who never took "no" for an answer, were the only ones who found the courage to approach her?

_And, OMG, he was still staring!_

It wasn't helping that the telemetry equipment for the search and rescue droids was using most of their generator power. It was hot and stuffy in the maintenance hut and the combination of no air conditioning with the additional heat output from the generator and the electronics had turned her workspace into a sauna. Wearing her shortest short-shorts and a thin, cotton wife-beater tee tied in a knot beneath breasts had not provided sufficient relief. She "glistened" everywhere and rivulets of sweat trickled down her back and belly, soaking her waistband while her top made her look like the first prize winner in a wet tee-shirt contest at a redneck bar.

"Hey, take a picture, Willis; it'll last longer," she snarled.

He smirked, looked her up and down leisurely one last time, and then slowly turned his eyes back to a report he was working on. "Don't worry, Viv; we're about done here. Another day or so and any bodies still trapped under the rubble won't belong to survivors. Then the priorities shift from rescue to refugees—corpse retrieval will be an afterthought. The Japs are bringing in their own robot specialists now and you can pack up your rescue droids and be back stateside in seventy-two hours. Tops."

She stared at him, too shocked to turn it into a glare. "Did you just say 'Japs'?"

Will Du shrugged. "Sorry. Should I say 'Nips' instead?" He transferred his gaze to her chest. Again. "And speaking of nips…"

"Oh! My! God! You just went from incredibly offensive to massively creepy in just three seconds! Do you, like, have any social life aside from mindless self-abuse?"

He grinned at her. "Your monitors haven't registered any hits on vital signs for two hours now and the sun's going down. What say we lock the door and engage in some mindless, _mutual_-abuse?"

Dr. Vivian Porter wished with all of her heart that she hadn't loaned Oliver to the director. She was growing more and more frightened of being left alone with Agent Du: if this went on for much longer, the big robot would be the only thing that could stop her from strangling the little asshole and spending the next thirty years in the federal pen.

Her thoughts of murder and mayhem were happily interrupted a few moments later when an alarm sounded, signaling a top priority message from the Japanese Prime Minister.

**RSVP**

The paper files had all been shredded or burned. The electronic data erased and the hard drives triple scrubbed. The weapons locker was sealed. The storerooms secured. All that remained was the stasis locker in Lab Three.

Dr. Director made her way down into the bowels of the underground facility and squeezed through the gap in the steel doors that Dr. Porter's robot, Oliver, had wrenched open for her the day before yesterday.

The stasis locker had a mechanical as well as an electronic lock. She had to have the big robot tear its door off as well since the power interruptions had scrambled the security codes. In the process, the contents of the locker had been slightly damaged. Not that it mattered: the item inside was already broken. It was a piece—a shard actually—of a larger artifact. If its quantum properties were further compromised by the jostling, she would have no way of knowing until she could get it back to headquarters for reevaluation.

_And she certainly wasn't going to leave it here!_

She removed the object from the combination lockbox stored inside the locker and held it up in the uncertain light. Without the rest of the body it had taken them awhile to figure out what it was supposed to be.

A monkey's paw.

A stone carving, suggesting that it belonged to a sculpture of simian aspect.

The stone, itself, defied laboratory analysis. The most popular theory was that some ancient stonemason had found a meteorite to carve into a monkey statue. That might explain the strange energy signature the artifact gave off at times…

She tucked it into her uniform pocket and snapped the flap closed.

As she started back up the stairs her personal communicator crackled to life.

"Hey Betts, you there?" Shego.

The director sighed and wondered if she would ever be able to get the green-skinned freelancer to observe protocols. On the radio or off. "You were due back over an hour ago," she snapped by way of answer.

"Yeeeaaah. Well. Here's the thing. I've got good news and I've got bad news…"

This was already an old routine but Betty knew better than to try to fight it. "What's the bad news?"

"I'm kind of having trouble with this one rescue. I've got a guy who's running out of time. If I don't extract him pretty soon, he's going to die."

"And the problem is…?"

"The moment he tries to move, he's _going_ to die."

"How do people get into—?"

"It's simple, Betts; the guy's an idiot!"

There was a long silence.

"Well, then tell me the good news," the director said finally.

"I've found Stoppable."

**RSVP**

"Go. Away." The words came out of his mouth like two short grunts.

The building just above them shifted a little and dirt and fine debris sifted down like a fine, gritty mist.

"Why?" she asked, knowing he was going to lie even before he answered.

The jumble of joists and floorboards spread across his arms, shoulders, and upper back creaked as he trembled with the effort to hold an entire daycare facility aloft. "Can't…put this…down…while…you're…in the…way…"

Shego eyed the distance from Ron Stoppable's position near the broken structure's center, to the closest outer wall and the safe clearance beyond. "Looks to me like you can't put this thing down while _you're_ in the way!" She couldn't even begin to imagine how he was bearing the weight of the building—but the guy could throw ten-foot-tall aliens a few miles into the air so…

He took a deep ragged breath. "Going…to toss…straight…up and…"

"Run?" Shego supplied when there wasn't enough breath for the next word. "I don't think so. Otherwise, you would have done it before I got here."

He started to shake his head but it made his balancing act too unstable.

"Those people out there told me that they got the last of the trapped kids out from under here close to twenty minutes ago. You haven't done anything because you don't have anything left."

As if to prove her point, he slipped to one knee, the ruined building pushing his former adversary down, as well.

"So…you…better run…"

She shook her head but he couldn't see that as the tremendous pressure on the back of his neck and head had him staring at the ground beneath his foot and knee. "I don't think you'll drop anything while I'm right in front of you."

"Be wrong…" he grunted. "Already…fucked…this up…before…"

"What? Crawled under another schoolhouse before this one? Picked it up while the kids were rescued and then dropped it on yourself?"

That seemed to piss him off more than she expected but it had the desired effect. The flickering blue nimbus of light that surrounded them flickered a little less and seemed to grow stronger.

Still, it was apparent that he wasn't going to last much longer. Whatever this MMP stuff was that the sidekick's files had alluded to, it surely had its limitations. Even as his physical strength seemed to be visibly fading from his trembling arms and shaking legs, the blue glow that had led her to him like a lighthouse beacon was growing dimmer by the minute.

More to the point, the last glimpse she'd had of his eyes had been _haunted_. The thousand-yard stare, some had called it. It was a clue that someone had given up on life or was about to. She'd seen that look recently, herself.

In her own mirror.

"Dr. Director is on her way. She'll bring Global Justice personnel and resources—"

"Won't. Make. It. In. Time." Every word was an explosion of breath as his lungs began to collapse under the strain.

_And she knew he was right._

Even if Betty and company did get here in the next few minutes—a highly unlikely scenario—what were they going to do? What could anyone do?

"Get! Out! Now!" Every word now was a testament of agony. He moaned. "Please!"

The shifting structure just overhead seemed to groan in sympathy and his back bent a little more.

"I'm not leaving you, Stoppable."

"You…ll…die…"

"Not afraid to die," she snapped. "How about you?"

"Looking…forward…to it…"

She was crouching beneath several hundred tons of certain death and only now did she feel a chill. It wasn't a quip or a boast of false bravado. The man was serious.

"Don't you quit on me now, Ron! You're not a quitter!"

He was silent, the only sound was the soft patter of sweat that dripped from him and fell to the ground like a soft rain shower.

"Besides, you haven't even lost your pants, yet," she teased, hoping to rally him for a few more minutes.

Hoping to buy time to figure something out.

But there was no response and there was no solution. There was no way out.

Except…maybe…through…

She wasn't sure he could even hear her now. He seemed to have gone deep inside of himself and when he spoke again, she knew he was addressing someone or something else. "I can't…" he whispered. "Oh God…Yori…"

Shego knew they just had moments and, though she hadn't really thought it through, she shuffled forward to embrace the failing man. That last word had sounded like a name, she thought as her left arm caught him about his lower back. The fact that the last name on his lips wasn't Kim Possible's was significant and she wondered about that as she pressed into him, her cheek alongside his.

"Maybe…won't hurt…too much," he murmured against her ear.

Her right arm came up and she laid her forearm and the palm of her hand against the lowering mass. "Don't count on it," she whispered back. I think it's going to hurt like a real sonofabitch!"

And then she reached deep down inside of herself, plumbing depths she hadn't touched since she was fifteen. Simultaneously she sought a clarity and focus that she had tried to dull with alcohol and cynicism for over a decade. The fading blue radiance turned to cyan and began to throb. Faster and faster, it pulsed like a beating heart, goosed with cattle-prods of adrenaline…

And then, with a roar, the building came crashing down around them while a blinding, blue-green beam of actinic energy punched a hole through two stories of jumbled architecture and launched a thousand pounds of wood and masonry into the upper atmosphere.

And, when Dr. Director arrived nearly an hour later, she found them, still unconscious, lying together in a mutual embrace.

They slept within a perfect circle of cleared ground and several hundred tons of shattered building all around them like a gigantic nest.

Or a halo.

* * *

**ABOUT THE CHAPTER TITLE: "Atonement" refers to Ron's state of mind, following his wife's death and the guilt he feels for not being able to save her. His unceasing efforts to rescue others border on obsession and we get a glimpse of his emotional pain translated into a complete disregard for his own life. ****_Also, please note that if there is an "Atonement Part I" then, eventually, there must be an "Atonement Part II" at the very least…_**

* * *

**_Authors/Notes:_**

**_So often when we fanfic authors throw Ron and some other unlikely member of the opposite sex together (Shego, Bonnie, etc.) there is barely enough story arc to make their relationship believable. There are exceptions, of course: _****Zataran, Noobfish, Scareglow,****_ and _****Whisper from the Shadows****_ are four examples of authors who know how to take their time in constructing plausible cases for Ron/Bon goodness, for example. Shego's a tougher nut to crack. She's older and on the wrong side of the law (up until the series finale) so pulling off any kind of RonGo is especially challenging. Not saying that it can't be done OR that I'm doing it here (holds hand behind my back) but I'd like to think that the groundwork is being laid for all sorts of possibilities…_**

**_And, hey, a little Yoshi goodness—even though she only appeared in two episodes of the original series. And poor Dr. Porter…no wonder she prefers robots to real men!_**

**_(6/8/14) Some additional edits in chaps 1-5 but 6 & 7 include minor added scenes, thanks to some additional coaching from Uberscribbler this time around._**

* * *

**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 7**

_vase 4/9/11 . chapter 7_

Thanks for quick update all I can say is write your story reviews are just reviews as long as you have a beta reader keep your story moving forward you can't please every ones tastes and some time it's best not to tell the readers every thing your thinking in plot development there's always going to be a few people second guessing.

So as one of your second guessers it would be nice not to read about how much of a looser and failure Ron feels he is for the next 20 chapters it could become tedious after a while but so far so good. I know he has to go through some period of doubt and recrimination.

**_I agree, _****vase****_: a little angst goes a long way. On the other hand, Ron has lost his wife and daughter, Rufus, and his best friend since Pre-K. It's not something that is going to heal quickly. How long it will take depends on the quality (and quantity) of nursing care he receives. Fortunately, we do have some "nurses" waiting in the wings…_**

I like where you are going it would be nice to get more interaction or dialog between some of the main characters.

**Yeah, they're kind of spread out right now, but many of them will start moving into closer proximity as the story unfolds. The pot on the stove is set to 'slow simmer' so don't expect this aspect of the story to get microwaved too soon…**

Some chapters like this one seem to be a little short maybe because as they get interesting they ends.

**_I've gone back and added more scenes and material to make some of the chapters more equal in length—not just to add to the word count but to flesh out the story, give some other characters some attention so that they don't just show up out of nowhere later, and fix the places where I rushed through the storytelling. But I'm afraid I really am bad about throwing more than few cliffhangers: don't want the readers to find it too easy to wander off and forget to come back… R~13_**

* * *

_Sentinel103 12/5/12 . chapter 7_

Well it looks like Ronnie boy is still with us.

**_Yep. The Ronster is still breathing. Can't have a "Ron-centric" fic without him…though he could be a ghost, I suppose. Hmmmm…(starts scribbling notes for Part II) Wait…that's been done… R~13_**

* * *

_Uberscribbler 12/5/12 . chapter 7_

Ron's not very good at this "respecting the last wishes of the dearly departed" thing, is he? The fact its taken Shego to get him to spare himself for a span isn't...entirely surprising, given the direction the author has strung us all along of late. I'm starting to feel like I'm reading a weird cross between F. Scott Fitzgerald and Don DeLillo here.

**_Oh Ron's terrible about following Yori's advice! And he's only gonna get worse for awhile! _**

**_F. Scott Fitzgerald and Don Delillo? Are you sure you don't mean Edward Bulwer-Litton and Danielle Steel?_**

That said, and given the ongoing lack of clarity of the motives and means of this mastermind behind it all (I'm referring to the character in the story, NOT the author), is it mere vain hope that some resolution to this catastrophe will appear in the near to long term? At this point, I'll just settle for knowing where the Stoppable 'rents (and the Han) are in all this.

**_And as to Mastermind's motives and means, all will be revealed—although it may be later rather than sooner (I do love to torment my readers as they try to figure out the true identity behind the mask. Not to mention a few other true identities—for instance, "Will Du" in that hotel room…) _**

**_As for the Stoppables? Chapter 1 mentioned that they had decamped for another overseas trip to avoid the paparazzi camped out in front of their house. But never fear: they shall return for a very fateful meeting with the Possibles and a couple of former Middleton cheerleaders. I can't say more without giving things away._**

**_And I must warn you: I'm working a big canvas here with a large cast of characters. Numerous plot threads are involved and some events will unfold slowly. Settle in for a long ride… R~13_**

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_Some Dude 8/24/13 . chapter 7 _

Not much to say other than cool chapter.

Keep up the good work.

**_Thanks! I'm trying. R~13_**


	8. Keeper of the Flame

**Required Disclaimer:** _Kim & Disney, sitting in a tree; they have all the rights…not me._

* * *

**Chapter Eight – Keeper of the Flame**

"Are you hungry, Porter-san? I am getting ready to make a—ah—how you say? Food run…"

Vivian looked up from her monitors and grinned at the tall, slender Asian woman. "Don't give me that 'how-you-say' crap," she laughed. "I happen to know that you speak excellent colloquial English and that your slang is better than many Americans."

"Busted," Kyoko Yoshiko agreed with a smile. "I'd be happy to bring you back something. Or—" she glanced over at Agent Will Du lying down a few feet away. "—maybe you could come with and let Agent Diddly-du watch the monitors for a half hour or so."

"I heard that," he muttered. He was draped across a couple of chairs with a Japanese newspaper folded over his face to block the light from the bare bulb that hung from the ceiling.

"How about it, Du," his fellow GJ agent asked.

"Sure—if you bring me back a steak," he mumbled under the paper without moving any additional muscles.

"A steak?" Yoshi repeated, disbelief coloring her normally dulcet voice. "Where am I—"

Vivian laid a hand on her arm. "Never mind. Dr. Director wants me to keep a close eye on their vitals and I'm to contact her if either of them wakes up."

Yoshi turned and regarded the bank of monitors. Among the screens displaying robotic search-cams, news updates, schematics for a nuclear facility, and Global Justice chatter was a display split into four, smaller windows. Two were webcams aimed at hospital beds; the other two displayed readouts from medical sensors attached to the bodies in those two beds.

"Can't Du do that?" Her face crinkled up in a smile as she considered the way her words had come out.

"Of course I can," he growled softly. "A trained monkey could do that. Of course it would be a waste of a trained monkey…"

Dr. Porter looked up at the Asian woman. "Go ahead. I'm good. And I should re-run the numbers on the Genpatsu facility."

Global Justice's self-anointed Number One Agent finally began to move. Sitting up with a muffled groan, he pulled the paper away from his puffy face and said: "Go on, don't play the martyr. I'll babysit the deadweights."

The blonde roboticist glared at him. "You _won't._ I _know_ you: you'll lie back down and take a nap!"

"For god's sakes, woman," he growled. "They're in the hospital, miles from here. That's where the hospital staff is! Doctors. Nurses. Candystripers…" A distracted look crossed his face and he smirked just a little. "Anyways," he continued after a brief pause, "we're all the way over _here_. Not like it will make a lot of difference if anything changes or goes wrong. And they're not even regular GJ agents. A pair of amateur free-lancers. What good are they? We should be investing in assets of proven value."

"What are you talking about?" Vivian said, her lovely features twisted in disbelief. "Those two are half of the team that stopped the Lowardian Invasion!"

Du shook his head. "That's the official story for the PR flacks and the media. Do you really think that four people could stop an overwhelming alien force?"

"The videos—"

"Videos can be faked, my dear," the obnoxious agent argued in a condescending tone. "Children do it everyday on their home computers and post it all over the internet."

"Eyewitnesses saw Stoppable-san lift a building off of a number of survivors," Yoshi interjected. "They said he held it up until the victims could be pulled to safety!"

Du snorted. "Really? A house?" He looked at the floor. "Do you really believe in mystical powers and miracles?" He looked up at the two women with an attitude of disgust. Then he nodded at the monitor showing a comatose Shego. "That woman—I don't care that she's been pardoned by governments all over this silly, superstitious planet—she's a criminal. Some dust-up with extraterrestrials—that were trying to kill her anyways—doesn't wipe out her former misdeeds. She should be in prison, not pretending to be GJ asset and sucking up precious resources that should be spent on the innocent and the deserving!" His mouth formed an expression of distaste. "But the boy-amateur is even worse in some ways. He was never more than a bumbling sidekick for Kim Possible. Although she showed some future promise, she was still an amateur but Ron Goofable made her look serious by comparison. I don't care about the director's cockamamie theories, I've seen him in action, up close. He's nothing more than comedy relief. A pants-dropping clown. You both should know, you've both worked with him." He shook his head again. "Although the term 'work' is probably the last phrase I'd attach to the Stoppable experience."

Yoshi frowned. "I must admit, I was not impressed with him on the two occasions that he assisted Possible-san with Mr. Nakasumi's problems. But, together, they did get results."

"Same here," Vivian answered grimly. "He seemed a bit of a goof but, in the end, they saved my reputation, my work, and my career. I know that Ms. Possible is always in the limelight and gets the credit…but I don't know how much of that is due to her personality and her…attractiveness." Dr. Vivian Porter knew about the two-edged sword of beauty: it could cut both ways. "Since then I've come to think that he plays a role that suits the team dynamic…but that it doesn't necessarily define the real person."

Agent Du rolled his eyes. He was bored and miffed about his current assignment and still held a grudge over his previous dealings with Team Possible. He looked back at the monitors and tried to not smile. "This whole argument is moot, anyway. Stoppable's dead."

Both women whirled and stared at the screen. All of Ron Stoppable's vital signs had gone to 'zero.'

Vivian felt her heart sink. Then it lurched again as she looked at the adjacent screen showing an empty bed. "Du, you idiot! He's not dead, he's _gone!_"

**RSVP**

Sometimes she dreamt of the comet.

Not so much the initial impact that shattered their childhood tree house...

...and, almost as an afterthought, their lives...

That part was like being struck by a car that you never saw coming.

Disorientation overrode the pain—even though she had screamed practically non-stop for the thirty minutes it had taken for the paramedics to arrive and sedate her. By the time she had awakened in a hospital bed, over a dozen broken bones cleanly knit and her second and third-degree burns replaced by pale, new skin, the pain was but a fading memory.

Only four hours had passed.

Her brothers had only taken glancing blows, not the full-on impact that she had barely survived.

The hospital's x-ray machine was just the first of many to produce a series of fogged plates instead of clear images of her internal workings. The MRI machine had begun to smoke and almost burst into flame before they were able to pull her back out. And without the hard proof of her initial injuries, her brothers had mocked her and called her a wimp for crying and for the nightmares that had lasted for weeks afterward.

Even when they eventually came to understand her accelerated healing powers, they couldn't seem to grasp that each fresh wound was _real_ when it happened. That the pain could be excruciating if not outright unbearable. And that, even if she healed within a matter of hours, the accelerated process of re-fusion and regeneration layered _another_ level of suffering over the first trauma.

At least that guy in the comic books with the knuckle-claws and the yellow underwear had adamantium reinforced bones. Hers weren't and were prone to stress fractures and breakage on a regular basis.

Worse than the blinding, soul-shaking pain from the impact, itself, was the horrid sensation of the stone shards that had pierced her skin. For days after the accident she could feel them working their way deeper into her flesh, almost squirming maggot-like under her epidermis and spreading whatever poisonous residue that they carried throughout her body until she was thoroughly tainted.

It was almost anticlimactic when her skin began to shade into the green spectrum a few weeks later.…

Sometimes she dreamt of getting her first period and how she had nearly destroyed half of the house with the sudden appearance of her plasma powers.

Of how the family had made her live and sleep outside in a tent for the several weeks it had taken for her to learn how to control the freakish new manifestation.

Sometimes she relived how her brothers' disdain for their sister had changed almost overnight to respect. Well, not respect in the purest sense, exactly, but she had finally been able to teach them a form of respectful fear. Horseshoes and hand grenades, as they say…

Sometimes she dreamt of the jokes and taunts—behind her back and to her face: middle school, high school, junior college.

How being different—even _better,_ by some estimations—was never "good."

Always _bad_.

Always.

Girls wanted nothing to do with her.

Boys wanted…well, what boys wanted had been a matter of confusion and pain for quite a long time. _Was she green "all over?"_ _What color were her nipples? Did she taste like limeade? Mints? What would she feel like—_

There was no pleasure in considering what _they_ wanted, only pain. The best way, the only way, was to only invest in what _she_ wanted. To hell with everyone else…

And then, sometimes, she dreamt of Danny…

Like she was now…

Danny had looked at her _without_ seeing GREEN.

He had hung around _without_ thinking FREAK!

He _never_ sneered, never laughed, never called her She-hulk.

He _never_ asked her what it was like to be an Orion Slave Girl (if she only had a quarter for every time…).

He didn't seem to care what she looked like or felt like or tasted like under her clothes. Not that he was repulsed, either. She'd learned enough about reading the vibes by then to know that the day would come when she'd be ready to offer him the answers to all of those questions and he would be more than willing for whatever she was ready to share.

But he didn't care about green matters, he was more interested in grey matter. In other words, he cared about her _brain_, her _mind_: what she thought and what she felt and what she dreamed about and where she wanted to go and what she wanted to do and who she wanted to be.

He worried about her when she was off fighting crime with her brothers. And told her so but didn't try to talk her out of it for his own selfish issues.

She couldn't have finished school and gotten her degree in Child Development without his support. Crime-fighting and term papers and studying would have been impossible without his tutoring and typing and standing up to both the school administrators and her brothers in hammering out a compromise class schedule so that she could help save both the world and her GPA.

Looking back, they might as well have been married even then as they were practically inseparable. There were only a handful of hours each day when they weren't within twenty feet of each other. None of the married couples she had ever met had spent half as much time in each other's company or been closer in practically every sense of the word.

_Which was why the cancer, when it turned up, was __everywhere__._

It was like dating a walking Uranium mine, one of the doctors told them near the end.

There wasn't an organ, a system in Danny's body that wasn't compromised by tumors and cellular damage.

If he had been seeing her only couple of nights a week, if they had been casual acquaintances, he might have lived a few years longer and maybe the chemo would have had a chance.

But the cancer was horrifically, almost mercifully, fast. And when his shriveled, shrunken body finally gave up his fierce yet gentle spirit, she understood that she _was_ a monster whether she wanted to be or not.

Intimacy—even prolonged proximity—was a death sentence to anyone around her over time. Stevie Barkin had gotten that prostate problem checked just in the nick of time. Señor Senior Junior had chalked up his skin melanomas to too much sunbathing and some giant, defective light bulb.

And all of those thirty to forty-five second sparring bouts with the cheerleader? Maybe Kimmie should ask her mom about scheduling an annual mammogram…

The only person who was safe from her cosmic curse was Dr. Drakken.

In one of his rare flashes of true brilliance, he had actually created an elixir that rendered him immune. Unfortunately he had yet to find a way to negate the epidermal side-effects without compromising the effectiveness of the radiation barrier. So, outside of abbreviated one-night stands, the only guys she would be spending any significant time around would be wearing lead shielding or look like they were dipped in Blue Dye Number Two.

_**Gee, Shego, everyone thinks your psycho-bitch act is the product of a misanthropic personality. Wouldn't they be shocked to learn that you push people away to protect them!**_

_What!_

She'd had the same nightmares for so long now that she practically had them indexed, alphabetized, and memorized. The voice in her head, in her dreams, was brand new.

_Who's there?_

_**Motor Ed doesn't realize just how lucky he is that you're not really evil…**_

_Wait? I know that voice…_

…_**because if you were really evil, you'd stop playing hard-to-get. A few weeks, months maybe, and that problem goes away for good!**_

_Stoppable?_

_**So, do your asshole brothers even have a clue as to why you really left Team Go and refuse to hang around them?**_

_What are you doing in my dreams?_

_**Aw, that's so sweet! You're dreaming of li'l ole me!**_

_Aaarrrggh!_ She tried to ignite her hands but apparently that didn't work at will when you were trapped in your own nightmare.

_**Hey! I resemble that! Nightmare, indeed!**_

_Get out of my head!_

_**Doesn't work that way, Sheila. You stuck your nose in my business so turnabout is fair play.**_

_What are you talking about? What busin—_

She suddenly saw him bowed beneath the weight of an entire building again. His limbs shaking with pain and fatigue, his voice cracked and despairing as he pleaded with her to leave him there.

_**Remember?**_

_What are you complaining about? I saved yo—_

The image wavered and there was a sudden kaleidoscope of images flashing by in a jumbled rush of disjointed thoughts and emotions. She caught flickers of a betrayal and a death, a wedding and a tidal wave. A cloud. And—then it was all gone as if a leaky hole had been frantically plugged.

_**Salvation is relative, kiddo. We all have our destinies. I can't have you messing with mine again. And, whatever's **__**her**__** damage, I can't let you kill my former BFF—intentioned or not. You may want to kill me. You may want to thank me. I dunno. I always figured that KIGO gossip in The Inquiring Star was just made-up stuff like the Batboy or Señor Senior, Senior turning his secret island lair into a tropical resort and calling it Fantasy Island…**_

She felt him shake his head.

_**But I digress**__._

_Oooooh, big words, Ronniekins! Are you going to go all Zorpox on me again?_

_**In a manner of speaking, I suppose. I **_**am**_** going to 'punish' you.**_

She felt a little thrill of fear. Zorpox was the only being who had ever made her feel truly afraid. And yet...this voice didn't sound like that giggling lunatic any more than it sounded like the buffoon she'd last encountered a few short months ago. There was an unaccustomed maturity here…and a weary cynicism that she could relate to all too well. It put her off-balance. She didn't like being off-balance so she fought back, hoping a little psychological judo would pull him off balance, as well.

_What kind of punishment, Ronnie? Do I get to pick?_

She sensed a wave of mild amusement coming off of him.

_How about you put me over your knee? But use your belt. Yeah. Take off your belt, first. And then, when your pants fall down—_

_**It's already done, Sheila. Open your eyes.**_

_Stop calling me that! My name is Shego!_

_**Not any more. I've got to go, now. It's been real. It's been fun. B**__**ut it hasn't been **_**real**_** fun.**_

She suddenly felt a pair of lips brush hers and her eyes flew open.

Ron Stoppable was stepping back from her hospital bed with a smile that seemed vaguely sad and regretful. "Sorry," he said, "I've always wanted to do that. Just consider it the rest of your punishment."

"Punishment? What punishment?" she snarled.

"I've given you the gift of Ronness," he answered enigmatically as he turned and walked to the door.

He paused at the threshold and her sleep-bleared eyes finally brought a series of details into focus. His tan cargo pants were no longer loose or baggy, cupping as fine an ass as she'd admired over many a daydream session at the gym and tucked into a pair of high, laced-up combat boots. The black crewneck pullover had been replaced by a charcoal, 5.11 tactical undergear shirt. The arms that were bared by the rolled short sleeves left no question that the whole package was as impressive as what the clothing only hinted at. None of this had been obvious in the darkness under the house for last night's meeting and it took her a moment to wrap her mind around the changes that had occurred within the last few months.

"I—don't understand," she said breathlessly.

"Normalcy," he elaborated. "Or maybe ordinary-ness. If nothing else, you'll enjoy a wider array of color coordination and fashion choices at Club Banana, now."

She still didn't get it but there was no way she was letting him walk out that door, yet. She sat up in bed and ignited her hands.

Except they…didn't. _Ignite_, that is.

She held them up before her face and stared at the pair of five-fingered traitors. I need a manicure, she thought before noticing how pale they were.

_With just a blush of pink._

She shook back the sleeves on her hospital gown and stared at the flesh of her arms: pale. _And slightly pinkish!_

She pulled the gown away from her chest and looked down into the fold of the neckline. Pink. Nipples. _Pink_ nipples!

She shook her hands as she stared across the room at him. Then she reignited her plasma. _Or didn't, actually. Because you can't __re-__ignite something that didn't ignite the last time._

"I guess you're looking for this," he said, giving his right hand a little shake. Pale, wispy blue flames erupted around his fingers and flickering, ultraviolet orbs danced in the nimbus of energy that surrounded it like a halo. "Sorry, but I need this for a little job. And I can't have you interfering. You can think of this as a punishment…or you can think of it as a reward. Like most things in life, the value is determined by the purpose to which it put. I hope you'll embrace it, Sheila. But, either way, I'm taking it with."

And then she saw it: the other thing. The sunlight coming in through the hospital window made it less obvious but she'd looked in her own mirror enough to notice such subtleties in skin tone.

Ron was exhibiting just the slightest tone of blue. Not a glow like that MMP light show of the previous night, but a hue, a hint really, of a midmorning summer sky with just a haze of distant cloud to filter the sun.

"Wait, Stoppable! I gotta know…"

"What is it, Sheila? I'm kind of on a tight schedule, here."

"You're…kinda…blue."

"Yeah." He waved his hand and the turquoise flames flickered out. "Rainy days and Mondays always get me down…" He shrugged and started to turn away.

The images flickered in her thoughts again: betrayal, death, wedding, tsunami, and… She shook her head. "No. I mean…your skin…"

"Yeah, the Big Dog might be back but I'm keeping him on a leash, for now."

"What I mean…is…are you…immune?"

"What? To the radiation?" He gazed at her with a thoughtful expression then suddenly turned his attention to his hand. "If I'm not, then I expect this will turn black and drop off within the next few days." He smiled. "Though I doubt we'll have the chance to find out. Besides, you don't really have that problem any more. So…maybe reward! More than punishment, I mean."

And then he was gone.

Gone just as she was starting to make some kind of sense of the images that had leaked through his thoughts before he had slammed that mental door shut again.

Even knowing that it wasn't really the princess who had said those hateful things…in spite of the fact that it wasn't Kimmie who had murdered Ron's beloved pet…just the memory—_his last agonized memories_—of the redhead's face was enough to finally ignite her cold, cold flesh. Her hands were still quiescent but her heart now burned like a white hot ball of rage. And then she began to tremble as the flickering images of a simple wedding ceremony unfolded into a series of origami tableaus of love and laughter and peace and quickening…

And finally the death of all hopes as the earth was tipped on its side and the ocean came crashing down like an avalanche.

She understood now.

Most of it, at least.

_Everything except for the mushroom cloud…_

* * *

**ABOUT THE CHAPTER TITLE: "Keeper of the Flame" has a double meaning as do most of the chapter titles herein. The traditional meaning of the term is "one who keeps alive a memory or tradition or values that would otherwise be lost over time." Ron is keeping alive the memories of his dear dead wife in his heart…and apparently keeping Shego's plasma flames, too. **

* * *

**Authors/Notes: **

**_A little bit of history on the original chapter changes: The original Chapter 8 was extremely short and was moved to the end of Chapter 7 on the previous updates back in May of 2011. The current Chapter 8 is new material dating from that update. Confused? So am I. The best course of action is to just reread any reposts…_**

_**As to the chapter lengths, I don't know which is better: post shorter installments more quickly or make you wait longer for longer installments? From my end, I not only get updates out sooner but the process actually accelerates when I'm not rewriting the longer chapters. My muse seems a little more unfettered.**_

_**And, yes, I do have a nasty habit of doing "cliffies." I not only want to whet my readers' appetites for more, I don't want them to get too comfortable in their assumptions. I still hope to keep you guessing—and not just on the theme of "Where in the World is Kim Sandiego?"**_

_**So far I don't have a beta-reader. I'm still pretty new to FanFiction-dot-Net and haven't learned much about the nuts-and-bolts of things like "communities" and "beta-readers." I get the principles, just not sure of the mechanics and haven't taken the time to do the research. Heck, finding time to work on the story is challenging enough. Which is why I appreciate the feedback all the more.**_

_**(2/8/12)**_

_**Almost a year later and I do have a much better sense of the mechanics of the site as well communities and forums. I still don't have a beta-reader. It would be nice to have someone to help me keep track of the various plot threads and holes but I'm not sure who's really equipped to help with that and who would be willing, given the nature and rating of the story. The first 55 chapters were written with my reviewers as my after-the-fact beta-readers: I guess I'll continue to rely on your PMs and reviews for assistance. Though I am open to suggestions as to who might be a good beta for me…**_

_**Oh, and a new scene…**_

**_Anyone catch the Fantasy Island in-joke in the chapter? Ricardo Montalbon, who voiced Señor Senior, Senior in several of the _****Kim Possible****_ episodes played "Mr. Roark," the host (and maybe something more) for the original _****Fantasy Island **_**TV show from 1978 to 1984**_**_. (Whew! Showing my age…)_**

**_(6/21/13)_**

**_Sorry about the delay in reposting: new deadlines, computer network crashes, and unexpected company…_**

* * *

**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 8**

_Robert Teague 6/25/12 . chapter 8_

I read this story the first time around, and have to admit I wasn't that impressed. I did finish it, but had trouble getting through some of the chapters.

But when I saw multiple chapter rewrites being posted, I decided to wait until you were done to reread it, and agree the revisions make it much better.

I do like how you take a look into the characters, and show them to be a lot deeper than they seem. But they are kept in character, even with the added layers.

I'm now looking forward to starting on the 2nd installment (which I didn't want to read until I reread this one).

On to the rest of the story...

**_Thanks for taking another look! It's a real commitment on the part of a reader to plow through this monstrosity and I appreciate all four of my fans who are doing it! Sometimes I think it's just a second look at the unchanged passages that make it better and other times I'm convinced that the extra scene or the reworked paragraph made all the difference in taking a chapter from "blah!" to "ah!" R~13_**

* * *

_Uberscribbler 12/6/12 . chapter 8_

There you go again. You've taken a simple, two-dimensional villainess, and made her...human. And that wasn't a very nice thing Ron did, btw. Now she has to go back and get a real, worthwhile life and actually *live*. That's positively cruel to someone who had to spend years keeping herself apart from everyone else (including her they-aren't-worth-the-seven-dollars-in-household-c hemicals-they're-made-of brothers).

**_Oh yeah! This won't be the last time that Ron will make Shego a little crazy. Pretty soon she'll be looking back fondly at the good ole days when the worst thing he used to do to her was push the big, red self-destruct button in Drakken's lairs. _**

So, where the Gurney-Helleck-heck is KP?! At least a tiny hint, please!

_**And KP? Hmmm…I stashed her around here someplace…I'd better go look again… R~13**_

* * *

_Sentinel103 6/21/13 . chapter 8_

I'll say, there is much more meat in this chapter.

**_Along with some potatoes and side salad. But you'll have to wait until the next chapter for dessert! R~13_**

* * *

_Some Dude 8/24/13 . chapter 8 _

You're not going there... PLEASE TELL ME YOU'RE NOT GOING THERE! Are you really going to have a nuclear bomb?!

**_Not exactly. Keep reading, Dude... R~13_**


	9. Who-go?

**Required Disclaimer:** _Disney: All things "Possible." Me: Not "Possible."_

* * *

**Chapter Nine – Who-go?**

All was quiet on Vandamm Street.

The sun had set hours earlier and, as the moon rose higher and higher into the night sky, the houses had grown quiescent. One-by-one, each of the windows had gone dark and now the only illumination holding back the midnight gloom came from the occasional streetlamp interspersed along the blocks of Middleton, Colorado.

Off in the distance came the sound of a two-stroke engine and Fukushima stiffened, imagining that his gaijin nemesis had returned, riding his signature blue scooter.

Instead, a familiar _silver_ scooter hove into view, slowly moving up the street and finally turning into the driveway of the Possible home where it stopped. The rider dismounted and, without removing his helmet, carried a valise up the steps to the Possible front door. The courier removed an envelope from the valise and tucked it into the door then returned to his scooter, secured the valise, and started his scooter once more.

Fukushima was across the street and removing the envelope from the door and substituting another before the courier had turned his scooter around and exited the driveway. The ninja had already retreated into the shadows before the porch light came on and a disheveled Dr. Timothy Possible, wearing a bathrobe, opened the door to peer out into the night.

As he had done on two other occasions.

Each time, the dishonored alumnus of Yamanouchi, had retrieved the letter from the Possible's errant daughter before any family member was aware of the clandestine delivery. They were unaware that Kim had now sent three letters detailing her hiding place and what she had been up to since her disappearance late last summer.

Her father, however, believed that his daughter had contacted him twice, now: after barely retrieving the first letter in time, Fukushima had carefully prepared counterfeit messages to replace the two letters that had followed.

The rogue ninja believed that Kim was unaware as her often clueless father: Fukushima had forged "her parents" responses, as well, to keep her unsuspecting and in the dark until the time was right for his vengeance.

And Fukushima was keeping Mastermind in the dark, as well: only _he_ knew where Ron Stoppable's former partner had hidden herself: back-tracking the deliveries through the courier service had been surprisingly easy. It was as if the redheaded _gaijin_ wanted to be found…

Well, once _he_ had vanquished the American baka and obtained the Lotus Blade for himself, he would use the teenaged girl to draw the masked overlord into a trap that would seal the destruction of both.

But first, he would deal with the boy…

...as soon as he could figure out where Stoppable had gone to.

**RSVP**

Some miles away in Lowerton, a weary med student pushed her Anatomy textbook away and stood up from her tiny desk. She needed a larger study surface but her cramped, little apartment didn't have room for such niceties—even if she could have afforded it.

Tara King looked longingly as her bed as she stretched and tried to work out the kinks in her neck and shoulders. _Another hour_, she promised herself, _she'd finish this chapter and then crack the next chapter in Advanced Chemistry. Then a solid five hours of sleep before getting an early start on her paper._ Then she frowned: tomorrow was a "light" day—only three classes and a lab—but Bob was hinting at another evaluation for the EMT probies. Unless she missed her guess, they'd make her pack two full cases of emergency gear and hump them up and down six flights of stairs while timing her.

She sighed and walked over to the doorway to her teeny-tiny kitchenette. A parallel bar was affixed across the top of the opening and, after moment's hesitation, she jumped up and grabbed hold of the steel tube. As she hung there, her toes pointed down and just a couple of inches off of the floor, her baby-tee rode up high on her ribcage and her pajama bottoms slid down her suddenly concave belly to barely catch hold on the swell of her hips.

Blowing a loose strand of hair away from her face, she began a set of ten pull-ups. Catching sight of her reflection in the closet door mirror across the room, she took note of the new definition in her arms and her abs: the physical rigors of her EMT training—not to mention her personal workouts to "keep up with the boys"—had worked wonders on her baby-fat. Not that Tara had ever been anywhere near overweight. She had just always looked a little "soft" next to some of the more athletic members of the high school cheer squad. But, just as her platinum hair, wide blue eyes, and shy personality had masked a quick, sharp mind, her plush curves had masked a musculature that made her the equal of any Middleton cheerleader save for maybe Kim Possible, herself.

As she puffed and pulled her chin up to the top of the door frame, the combination of hanging from a steel bar and baring so much of her torso at the same time triggered a long-forgotten memory…

_Fourth grade._

_Middleton Elemantary School._

_Recess._

She was trying to coax Ron Stoppable onto the monkey bars to climb up and hang with her. Literally.

She didn't know him well but had liked him even back then. He wasn't mean or rude or aggressive like a lot of the boys. He usually had a different take on things which made him interesting. And he could make her laugh: something that most women discover is an amazing aphrodisiac when they get a little older and more—er—mature.

She was trying not to laugh now as he tried to explain why he wouldn't—or couldn't—get involved with anything that incorporated the word "monkey" in it.

Jungle-gyms? Yes.

Monkey-bars? No.

It was all very incomprehensible to the young Tara King but Ronnie Stoppable could be very entertaining even when his line of reasoning seemed…elusive.

That Kimmie Possible seemed to think so, too. The two were frequently inseparable and while Tara had yet to develop any feelings of jealousy—that would take a few more years—she certainly knew that spending time in the company of the tow-headed boy-without feeling like an intruder-was an opportunity to be made the most of.

So she tried to entice him with the idea that he could do something that fit with his recently adopted motto: Never Be Normal!

"If you were up here," she told him, turning around and hooking the backs of her knees over one of the parallel bars, "you could see the world in a whole new way!" Letting go of the bar above it, she swung down slowly until she was hanging, upside-down, her pigtails dropping alongside her head to look like platinum bunny-ears.

Ron grinned and, for a moment, she thought that she had convinced him to join her. Then he disappeared from sight as her top, a little loose and baggy compared to her blouses and tees, succumbed to gravity and dropped down to cover her face. The sudden loss of vision surprised her and she hung there for another minute as she tried to sort out what had happened. The rush of blood to her upside-down brain had momentarily confused her thought processes.

It was the gentle breeze blowing across her bared torso that alerted her to her predicament beyond being able to "see" it for herself. She grabbed the bottom of her pullover top and pulled the waist upwards, uncovering her face and recovering her chest and tummy. Ron Stoppable was still there but his back was turned to her, now.

With a sudden flush, she realized that he had turned away so that he couldn't look at her. The thought both pleased and disappointed her. He was being a little gentleman—even if her chest was the same as any boy's at that stage of her young life—and refused to take advantage of her unplanned exposure. Furthermore, she could now see that he had shifted his position to shield her from other eyes on the playground.

The thought made her blush with pleasure: he was looking out for her. Protecting her. It made her feel…what? Special? Yeah, that must be it. She started to swing back up while clutching her top with one hand. Then she stopped. She was perfectly capable of managing the move and maintaining her modesty. But this was an opportunity to be mined. His redheaded shadow was nowhere around and she was curious…

"Ronnie," she said softly, "can you help me?"

"Um, sure, Tara…er…what would you like me to do?"

Huh. Now that was the question wasn't it: what _would_ she like him to do?

He still hadn't turned around.

"Ronnie, you can look: I'm decent."

"Of course you're decent, Tara," he said. "But are you covered up?"

She giggled and almost lost her hold on her wayward top. "Yes, I'm covered up. But I can't stay covered up and get back down unless you help me."

He turned then and clambered through the maze of pipes and bars to get up to where he could leverage her back up to a sitting position. It was more complicated than it looked and Tara was decidedly unhelpful as it seemed to prolong the process. There was more than a little pushing and pulling and hands ended up _everywhere_ before she finally allowed him to get her repositioned. The Marines raising the flag atop Mount Suribachi on Iwo Jima surely had nothing on the two of them that mild spring afternoon.

The experience was very _interesting_ for her. She didn't know what it was like for him as they were interrupted by a loudly cleared throat below them. They both looked down at a seemingly annoyed Kimmie Possible.

"Rooon? What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Fighting the good fight, KP," he answered with a goofy grin. "I was rescuing Tara from the evil Monkey-bars." No sooner had the words passed his lips than his face grew serious. Then terrified. "Aaah! Evil _Monkey_-bars!" he yelled, flinging his arms out as if the metal had suddenly become red-hot. He tumbled to the ground, striking every single tube, pipe, and bar in his path on the way down.

Evil Monkey-bars, indeed!

The long buried memory had carried Tara through her first set of ten pull-ups and now she was finishing her second set. As she completed the twentieth, she released her right hand but continued to hold on with her left. Now her right toe dropped enough to counterbalance her weight against the floor. Remembering the innocent touch of his hands those many years ago, she slid her own hand down the concave slope of her abdomen and trembled a little. Her cotton PJs shivered past the oval circumference of her hips to slide down her legs and puddle to the floor around her ankles. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to imagine that boy grown through his teen years, as she had known him, and on into young manhood…

Except the image that came to mind was totally unexpected: a muscled and sinewy warrior, stripped of all goofiness, and surrounded by a nimbus of green flames that burned and yet did not consume.

_Where did that come from?_

Ultimately, it didn't seem to matter: her hand dropped lower and, soon, she began to "burn" as well.

**RSVP**

Another woman did not burn but slept again: a dreamless slumber, her first within memory.

When she awoke she sensed another presence in the room. Betty was standing between her bed and a second hospital bed on the other side of the room, facing away from her.

"Betts?"

"He's gone," the director said, staring down at the meticulously made bed. She ran her hand along the edge up to the corner where the sheets were crisply folded military style. "Did you see him go?"

"Oh yeah." She almost added a snarky "we kissed goodbye" but decided—for some reason—not to.

"Did he say anything?"

"We had…words."

"Did he say where he was going?"

Shego frowned. "He did not. Said something about a job and that he was 'on the clock.' That's about it."

Betty's shoulders seemed to slump. Then she pulled herself a little more erect and turned. "Stoppable will have to wait. Something's come up." She walked around Shego's bed and put her hand on the visitor's chair. After a moment's hesitation, she pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat down.

Shego scooted back against the headboard and the wall so that she was half sitting. Despite the extra sleep she still felt exhausted. Depleted. She shook her right hand and willed the energy release.

Nothing.

"Uh, Betts…not feeling totally up to snuff, right now. You might want to reassign this one."

The director shook her head. "Sorry, Sheila. We've been trying to assist the Japanese government with a very special request since yesterday and we've hit a wall. It seems to all come down to you. No one else is capable of pulling this off, I'm afraid."

The former villainess slumped a bit. "Well, I hope it can wait a few days. I'm really not…myself…yet…" She hoped a few days would be enough. She was just…drained…for the moment. _He couldn't have actually taken her comet powers completely away could he? Throwing giant aliens across a city and holding up a building—that was one thing. Borrowing her plasma powers—transferring them out of her body and transplanting them into his own—that was an entirely different kind of extraordinary._

"I'm afraid this can't wait." The director placed a laptop on the hospital bed stand and opened it. On the screen was a conglomeration of industrial structures and a pair of large, domed concrete blocks. Smoke was rising from one of the domes. "This is the Genpatsu Nuclear Power Plant," she elaborated. The quake compromised the containment chamber of Reactor Number Two, and the coolant levels have been dropping by the hour."

"What are you saying, Betty? We're headed for some kind of China Syndrome?"

"Technically speaking, it would be more of an Argentina Syndrome given the geophysical position of the reactor and hypothesizing a nuclear meltdown straight through the earth's core. But that's all superstition and hyperbole. Once the nuclear fuel reaches a sufficient temperature to melt through the bottom of the containment vessel, it will burn through everything in its path—"

"Until it hits water," Shego finished. "At that point the water will vaporize, turning to steam, and create an explosion that with throw radioactive material up, out of the ground, and into the air."

The director nodded. "Some of it will come right back down, some of it will be blown into the upper atmosphere where it could circle the globe via the jet stream. Anybody's guess where or when it comes down then."

"It could be anywhere…" Shego mused.

"Or _every_where." Dr. Porter added.

"And we only have a few hours before we hit the point of no return," Dr. Director concluded.

_Why,_ Shego thought, _is she saying "we" when I know she's really saying "me?"_

**RSVP**

Dr. James Timothy Possible staggered back to bed, having slipped the envelope into his briefcase in his study. He couldn't read it here, now, when another family member might come upon him and discover Kim's strange missives.

Besides, he was tired—and Kim's cryptic comments were best left to interpretation once his mind was sharper. Rested. In his office at the Space Center.

He crawled under the covers, blissfully—well…grumpily—ignorant of his late night, close encounter with a ninja.

Jim and Tim Possible, however, were not.

Gazing down from their bedroom window, the twins watched the black-clad figure flow through the shadows between the streetlamps, slipping across the darkened road and into Mrs. Abercrombie's Azalea bushes.

"Hicca bicca boo?" Jim asked, turning to his brother.

"Hoo-sha!" Tim exhaled, nodding in return.

The moved apart, each going to a different station in their bedroom. Jim opened the window, pulled on a pair of transparent readout and display goggles, and picked up a wireless controller. Tim opened his laptop, awakening it out of sleep mode.

A small, model helicopter rose silently from Jim's desk as he worked a pair of miniature joysticks on the remote. Tim opened four separate "windows" on the computer screen, spacing them into four equal quadrants.

The helicopter flew out through the open bedroom window and the lower, right hand on-screen "window" began displaying a bird's eye view of the Possible yard and property.

The upper left hand view began showing a static shot of the front door of their house from the outside and from an elevated angle. "Rewinding video from the porch-cam," Tim announced. "And accessing tree-cams one and two." The other two "windows" came to life with alternate views of the front yard and the street.

"There!" he announced, pointing at the replay of the courier's late-night delivery.

Jim peered at the replay through the mini-copter's transparent displays on his goggle lenses. "What is that? An envelope?"

"Affirmative. I can't make out the address, much less a return address if there even is one: the angles are all wrong and the light is bad."

"Infrared is no good for enhancing non-heat sources. We should have added ultraviolet filters to the cameras."

"Next time. Now watch…"

They observed Fukushima's stealthy interception and followed his retreat on the two subsequent screens.

What they missed from the amazingly acrobatic sleight-of-hand, was that another envelope was substituted for the one taken.

_Mr. Dr. Possible had performed his part of the "swap" almost as handily as the ninja, himself!_

Jim then took the surveillance copter out of auto-hover mode while time enlarged the fourth window to fill the entire screen. "Switching to infrared," he announced as the stealth copter swooped across the street and began a systematic run up and down the block.

It wasn't long before they had photographic evidence of surveillance teams of two individuals, each, staking out the Possible and Stoppable houses, with a fifth individual serving as a "floater."

"What do you think they want?" Tim asked as he prepared uploads to be forwarded to Wade Load and Global Justice.

"Best guess?" Jim answered as he guided the helicopter back in through the open window. "They're looking for Kim or Ron."

"And if they were good guys, they wouldn't be hiding from us."

"Or stealing messages that might be from Kim or Ron."

"And while we don't actually know who the messages are from…"

"…it's the most logical assumption given all of the parameters!"

They stared at each other..

"So what do we do, now?"

"Inform Wade…

"…but keep GJ out of the loop…

"…in case they've been infiltrated by a mole."

A momentary gloom settled over the genius brothers. Losing Kim and Ron had been a terrible blow yet they harbored hope that both would return someday and be reconciled. But if Dr. Director was to be believed, then Rufus was gone for good. And the word "mole" had just renewed all of the grief and anguish that had haunted them, along with both families, for months.

Finally Tim's face hardened. "And, in the meantime…"

"…we upgrade our perimeter…"

"…with both defensive…"

"…and offensive…"

"…systems!" they finished together and punctuated it with a high-five. "Hoo-sha!"

**RSVP**

"So what's being done about it?" Shego asked, a sick feeling starting to grow in the pit of her stomach.

"The Japanese have done everything they can," Dr. Director answered. "More than forty plant workers have tried to seal the breech in the containment vessel. Those that aren't already dead will die within weeks if not days from radiation poisoning. I'll let Dr. Porter take it from here." She pressed a key on her laptop and the young, blonde roboticist's face filled the screen. "Were you listening, Viv?"

"Yes, Director." Dr. Porter nodded toward the webcam at her end. "Shego."

"A brief summation of the last twenty-four hours at your end, if you please, and then a little more detail as to where we are now," the head of Global Justice commanded.

"Right." The blonde was pressing keys on the computer at her location and a series of charts and photographs began to appear as she spoke.

"As you know, at the request of the Japanese government, I have been assisting with search and rescue operations this past week, utilizing multiple robot drones. About a half-dozen are remote-control, eyes and ears extensions while another fifteen are fully programmed automatons, capable of acting independently and seeking out survivors by infrared scans and enhanced auditory detection.

"The Japanese Prime Minister contacted me, himself, just over twenty-four hours ago, requesting any aid we might be able to give them at the Genpatsu facilities. Based on the initial reports and the schematics that were provided by the plant management, I modified a total of eight drones to function as robot welders. Three of them should be fully submersible. All are radiation-hardened."

"I know you must be exhausted, Viv," the director said.

"I am. But I've had a lot of help. A Dr. Freeman and a Dr. Bortel have just arrived and are offering some fresh, cybernetic solutions as well as two extra pairs of hands. I also understand that a Dr. Drakken is arriving shortly with additional data to those scans you forwarded to me and he's supposedly bringing along some decommissioned hardware related to his former robotics project."

Shego's eyes narrowed at the thought of her former employer having anything to do with a 'robotics project.'

"Unfortunately, we are running out of time," the director added. "And we're facing one known obstacle and one unknown one."

"The drones can't get to the containment chamber," Dr. Porter elaborated. The seismic damage to the buildings caused some structural collapses." The screen showed an interior corridor where a part of the wall and door frame had buckled. "I sent Oliver in to clear a path and this is the last video transmission I got from him as of three hours ago." As the door came closer, a human-like hand reached out and tried the knob. It was quickly apparent that more and more force was being brought to bear until the doorknob broke off. Subsequent attempts to force the door open caused the walls and ceiling to give way and the video feed was suddenly terminated. Another video feed from one of the smaller drones at the other end of the hall showed that the corridor was now impassible and the large humanoid robot was completely buried under the debris.

"I might be able to modify some of the drones to excavate a path and change out the welding gear for cutting torches. But all of that will take more time."

"More time than we have before the coolant levels drop too low and the fuel rods go critical," the director elaborated.

There was a significant pause.

"And…so…you want me to do _something_…?" Shego guessed. She was still tired, her brain fuzzy. Grabbing on to his weird blue glow and using it to supercharge her electromagnetic blast had saved both their lives but had pretty much emptied her. And no telling what Ron had done to her in the process of hijacking the effect she liked to call her plasma gloves. _Damn you, Stoppable_, she thought, _you picked a fine time to mess with me!_ And her anger was suddenly sidetracked as she wondered if she meant physically or emotionally.

"Sheila…" the director said carefully, switching to her "Betty" voice for her next words. "…someone has to go in there before it's too late. Someone has to burn a path through that rubble. Blasting a path or forcing more doors may just bring down more of the building. Burning your way in is the only viable answer. And then, fusing any cracks or leaks will need to be done quickly. Systems will have to be reset and brought back on line before the fuel rods can begin to cool. All of this—the variables, the judgment calls, the operation of the internal control systems—are problematical for drones and even Oliver, if he was still functional, would have a hard time with the welds and the threat assessments. We need a human to go in."

"Sounds like you need a whole army of humans to go in," Shego mused.

"Yes, well, the problem is, it's a suicide mission for most humans thanks to the levels of radiation that are bathing the area now. And those levels are rising with each hour that passes."

She didn't like the direction that the director was taking this. "What? Don't you have any kamikaze volunteers? I thought the Japanese were really into the whole sacrifice-myself-for-my-homeland kind of bushwhack code!"

"Bushido code," Dr. Porter corrected from the laptop.

The former villainess shot her a look that said: _I __know__ that, Blondie!_

"It's not that we lack for volunteers," Betty answered gently. "There are men and women willing to die a protracted, agonizing death within days if their sacrifice will avert such a disaster. The problem is the radiation levels have elevated to the point that they would be dead before they could complete even a portion of the mission."

"So," Shego said, "if robots can't complete the mission and humans can't complete the mission…" She waited.

Betty nodded.

"You don't really think of me as _human_, do you."

"I said _most_ humans."

Shego just stared at her, half sick with the idea that she wasn't looked upon as being fully human, the other half sick with dread.

"I wouldn't ask this of anyone—not even you," Betty was saying, "but you're the only logical choice. Think about it. You could melt through most obstacles to the containment chamber with the least risk of further collapses. Using your plasma powers, you could reseal any cracks or leaks a lot faster than a team of welding drones could. You could manage threat assessments, do on-the-fly problem-solving, and adapt to changing circumstances faster than any robot with limited programming. And finally, your comet powers give you the best chance for surviving the radiation. Hell, Sheila: your body channels radiation like you're a walking, breathing x-ray machine!"

"What my body does with the particular form of energy that damned comet cursed me with is one thing! Gambling that _another_ form of radiation won't hurt me—hell, won't possibly _kill_ me even _faster_—is another! But you're about three hours too late! I'm not your Glow-girl any more! I'm normal, now! This may be a hard concept to wrap your head around given my past but I'm _human_, now." She bowed her head feeling unaccustomed tears flood her eyes. _Sorrow? Relief? Joy?_ "Just human."

"What are you talking about?"

"Go get a Geiger counter and check me out, _Director._ At first I thought I had just run my batteries low with that house-buster blast. But Stoppable walked out of here a while ago with my flames around his fingers and they were dyed a monkey-mojo blue. And until he brings them back, I think just going outside without sun block could be hazardous to my health!"

"Wait! You're saying Ron Stoppable has neutralized your comet powers?"

"Run the tests, Betts. But I feel as empty as a dry well right now and I think it's no coincidence that he walked out of here looking like my fraternal twin, Blue-glo."

"If he took it, then he can probably give it back. Did he say where he was going?"

Shego shook her head. "Just that he was in a hurry. Said he was 'on the clock'." Then the final, disparate image from her mind-link with Ron snapped back into focus: the cloud…

_A mushroom cloud!_

"Oh, dear God!" she said, finally understanding Ron's endgame.

* * *

**ABOUT THE CHAPTER TITLE: "Who-go?" is obviously a play-on-words. Take the "Go-Team": Hego, Mego, the Wegos, even Shego—and count Ron's hijacking of Shego's "go power"—then ask the question that the crisis dangles before them all…****_who_**** goes?**

* * *

**Author's Notes: **

**_A little more history on chapter changes: The current revision and report of Chapter 9 has an added scene taken from the previous edition of Chapter 10. Confused? So am I. The best course of action is to just reread any reposts…_**

_**(2/8/12) And another new scene…along with the requisite revisions.**_

**_If Kim's actual address was ever listed in any of the original episodes, I have yet to run across it. Please correct me if it has and I will correct this chapter._**

**Bonus Quiz: ****_In the absence of having an actual street name for the Possible residence, I have arbitrarily named it _****Vandamm St****_. Why? The first reader to come up with the correct answer can win the first _****RSVP "You're All That" Prize****_ and have your name or _****non-de-plume****_ incorporated into the storyline. Text me, beep me…*_**

_*****__The answer was finally given at the beginning of Chapter 19: kudos to Feudor for doing his research!_

_**So many characters in the KP-Verse have first names only. Trying to come up with last names for these stories, we Fan Fiction writers turn to a variety of fixes. In Tara's case, I went with a Fan Fiction trend: more than a few stories here have decided that Tara's last name is King and I am happy to fall into line. **_

_**Now, I need suggestions for the other characters' last names. Starting with the cheerleaders: Liz, Jessica, Crystal, Hope, and Marcella...**_

* * *

**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 9**

_readerjunkie 4/17/11 . chapter 9_

Excellent work so far on the story can't wait to see more of it.

**_Thanks man! But given the dearth of reviews here I'm wondering if it's not time to kill off another character… _**

**_;-) R~13_**

* * *

_Sentinel103 12/6/12 . chapter 9_

OK I don't remember if I reviewed this chapter before so lets try it! Fukuhead is feeding bad mail to Jimmie Possible (who is now being played like a harp from hell) so if Kimmie thinks that she's getting thru she's outta her mind and she should have better operational security. Wade should have taught her that much.

**_At this point we only know that Fukushima is intercepting messages before they can be found by the Possibles. We don't actually find out about the content of the substitutions and who they're targeting until Chapter 15._**

**_And you're right: Ron and Kim have been bamboozled rather handily. That's why I wrote the "misunderstanding" in Chapter 1 to be so "brutal." Not just for the purpose of splitting them up, but making it so traumatic that they couldn't bear to even think about it in any detail afterwards. That makes it harder for each to notice the inconsistencies and OOC-ness of the other's part in it._**

Lemme see Ronnie boy's going out on a one way trip with the hopes of being with his Yori again.

Ya know I think Sensei is gonna want to have a talk with a certain rogue ninja.

ST-103

**_As for a little sit-down with Sensei? I think it might be more effective if we set him up for an appointment with a certain "doctor." And I don't mean Drakken. R~13_**

* * *

_Uberscribbler 12/7/12 . chapter 9_

Fuk-head is utterly insane to be playing this game with mastermind's instructions. Didn't having his nervous system fried by remote control teach him anything? Thank you for the hint concerning KP, btw. It puts my mind...not even remotely at ease.

Ron, in contrast, is so sane I'm even more scared of him now, especially with his having slipped that 'warning' (intentionally or not) to Shego.

**_Fukushima really is pretty obsessive when it comes to Ron and his possession of the Lotus Blade—sort of like the late Monkeyfist and his obsession over Ron's possession of the MMP and the title of Supreme Mystical Monkey Master. Maybe Shego will get all obsessive about Ron's possession of the glowy plasma powers…_**

"Vandamm" wouldn't be a semi-nasty play on the name "Von Bruan", or just a sign you're a fan of the Muscles from Brussels?

**_To see why I named the street that Kim lives on as "Vandamm" you can Google (the Hitchcock movie) "North by Northwest" and "Vandamm house." Tell me that doesn't look something like the Possible home._**

Awaiting the next update with semi-bated breath. I've no desire to take on Drew's skin-tone, thanks.

**_You might try some mouthwash—that whole "baited" breath thing can be so socially embarrassing…_**

**_;-) R~13_**

* * *

_Batamut 12/9/12 . chapter 9_

well that is new, does that mean Tara made it to the finals?

_**Do you mean "the finals" in regard to Ron's core crew? Time will tell. But I must admit that I have a soft spot for the exquisite Miss King. R~13**_

* * *

_Some Dude 8/24/13 . chapter 9 _

You... are an awesome author.

**_Thanks, Dude. I assume part of your enthusiasm comes from being a Tara fan? R~13_**


	10. Childe Rolande

**Required Disclaimer:** _Disney: All things "Possible." Me: Not "Possible."_

* * *

**Chapter Ten – Childe Roland**

The head of the Uptopian Black-Ops Division stood at attention as the heads of the Admiralty ordered the chamber cleared and the great, heavy doors were closed and sealed behind him.

"At ease, Commander," he was told gruffly. "Have a seat."

The commander sat, considering the five highest ranking officers in the Uptopian fleet. He'd heard rumors…

"Commander, you've seen the data and read the reports from the Lowardian probe?"

"Sirs! It is my understanding that this information has not been declassified nor has it been disseminated outside of the High Council…"

"We are well aware that you have no official access to these reports. We are also well aware of your reputed skills. Please do not waste out time with a pretense of needing to fully brief you as to their import and perceived threat level."

The commander swallowed. "The being depicted in the Lowardian scans defeated the infamous Warhok and Warmonga and appears to be the leader of a very small resistance that destroyed a Lowardian invasion armada. Such a being might be a powerful ally against the green ones—or be a terrible enemy to the Uptopians."

The senior officers nodded and the Fleet Admiral almost smiled as he spoke. "Succinctly put, Commander. There are those in the government—and the military—who feel that the safe, pragmatic approach would be to launch planet-buster rockets at this 'Earth' and avoid the potential threat altogether."

The commander nodded and smiled knowingly. "And maybe earn a little favor with the Lowardians in the process?"

A throat was cleared. "That aspect has not gone unnoticed in the deliberations."

"Of course," the commander noted, "the Lowardians might also be angered by being denied the opportunity to take their revenge against this person—and his planet. This might finally give them excuse to turn their full attention toward us."

"This has also been noted," a rear admiral said gruffly. "Another reason why it has taken the High Chancellor so long to come to a decision…"

"Of sorts," the Fleet Admiral continued. "Commander, we need a short list of your very best covert assassins."

**RSVP**

Dr. Porter walked back into the makeshift laboratory and asked: "Okay, gentlemen, what have we got?"

"Actually, Dr. Drakken's B-B Project shows a lot of promise and could be viable a lot sooner than we initially thought," Dr. Freeman answered as he maneuvered a set of probes around the braincase of blonde-haired, blue-faced robot head.

Vivian crossed her arms in front of her and glanced over at the man whose face was disturbingly similar to the ones on the disassembled robots. She'd heard stories from Dr. Possible about his former colleague and wasn't sure which she trusted less: Drakken's questionable competence or his reformed nature. _There probably wasn't an old saying along the lines of "once a mad scientist, always a mad scientist," but there probably ought to be_, she thought. "Tell me," she said.

"Well, Global Justice has released the components of a number of the B-B units that were destroyed by Kim Possible and uh—" Dr. Freeman paused reflectively.

"Ron Stoppable," Vivian snapped. "Jeez, Kim's father told me how every one used to forget his name but, c'mon people, the guy just about single-handedly saved the world!"

"Hey, I helped a little…" Drakken complained.

"I heard you were rescued like a fairytale princess."

"Nngh! Lies and slander! I had gone on board the mothership ahead of everyone else to infiltrate the alien defenses! Besides, Kim Possible was captured, too."

"Whatever." She turned her attention back to the black cyberneticist. "Do you have enough usable parts to assemble at least one, functional robot?"

"More than enough," Dr. Freeman affirmed. "In fact, we could reconstruct two, maybe three."

"We don't have time for that. It looks like Dr. Director's fallback plan has fallen through so it's still up to us. We need to field a functional bot, capable of gaining access, and we need to get it in there yesterday."

"That's the beauty of it," Freeman said. "We think we can assemble three just as quickly as we can one. The components have a built-in design for self-repair."

Dr. Bortel held up one of a series of grey canisters. "I can program these nanites to repair the damaged circuitry and assist with the reassembly of the severed parts."

"Nanites?" Drakken asked.

"Microscopic machines—tiny robots, if you will."

"I thought they were called nanobots."

Bortel shrugged. "Potato, po_tah_to."

"Okay," Dr. Porter mused, "but even if you wipe their memory banks and reprogram them, what's to stop them from eventually evolving to a higher level of consciousness, achieving autonomy, and deciding to rule the world? Again!"

"Two things. Three if you count the changes to their BIOS and their ROM. First, we adjust the neural pathways so that they're three, distinct entities. We think the hive-mind consciousness led to most of the problems. Then Dr. Bortel has come up with an additional line of defense."

Bortel held a small glass container with a row of small, dark squares laid out in a line. "A variation on my moodulator chips," he explained. Designed for cybernetic interface instead of human. These will add an emotional component to higher forms of artificial intelligence. I'll program them to feel an affinity for humans. They won't see themselves as inherently different and therefore hostile."

Dr. Porter picked up one of the robot heads and considered its cold blue metallic features, repressing a shudder. She turned to Drakken. "You called them Bebes?"

He shrugged. "It was a nickname. The original project title was shortened to two initials. B.B. For beauty bots."

Her eyes widened. "You have got to be kidding me. Well, I can understand, now."

"What?" Drakken asked defensively. He didn't like this woman's attitude, it reminded him too much of Shego's.

"The first time they looked into a mirror: that's what drove them to the dark side." She considered the head again. "You know, I've been experimenting with some new polymers…" She suddenly put the head back down on the table. "Gentlemen, let's get started. We don't have much time." She turned and started a procurement list for Agent Du.

**RSVP**

The young, redheaded woman slipped into her room, set her nearly empty soda on her dresser, and carefully locked the door behind her. Then she turned off all of the lights save for the lamp next to the closet.

It was time for another mission.

She shed her blouse and jeans and then hesitated before removing her bra and panties. _No, for mission-wear she would go full commando._

She paused before the full-length mirror on her closet door as she brushed out her fiery red mane of hair. Even though High School was nearly a year behind her, she still had a cheerleader's body: tight and toned but beginning to fill out in the best ways as she approached her twenties.

She slipped on her tan, cargo pants and the black, pullover midriff shirt and studied her reflection again: yeah, that was more like it. Now she was starting to look like the Kim Possible of old.

Going to her dresser, she drained the rest of her soda and then removed four short lengths of rope from her underwear drawer. She moved the Styrofoam cup to the nightstand beside her bed and then took the ropes and tied two slipknots in each piece. Dropping one of the loops of each piece over each of the four bedposts on her bed, she pulled each length tight and positioned the loops on the other ends just so. Then she tossed the lid and the straw from her soda into the wastebasket by the bed.

She closed her eyes for a moment to set the scene in her head.

_On this mission…she had been captured by the evil Doctor Duncan—no, that wasn't right. Deacon? Dragon! That was it! She was now a prisoner of the evil Doctor Dragon_, she thought as she crawled up onto her bed.

She slipped her bare feet though the slip-knotted loops tied to the posts at the foot of her bed and kicked her legs to pull them tight. Then she scooted upwards to slip her left through the looped end of the rope attached to the post on the left side of her headboard. She grasped the loop of the rope tied to the right hand post but did not pull it over her wrist as she had with the other.

Now she lay spread-eagled atop her mattress.

_Or, rather, now she was tied down to the evil Doctor Dun—Dragon's torture table in his dungeon lair. Oh, my! _She pulled at her bonds: _she couldn't escape! What would happen to her?_

_It looked like it was up to her partner, Ron Stoppable, to rescue her!_

'_So, Kimberly Possible!' Doctor Dragon gloated as he leaned over her helpless form. 'Tell me where I can find your fine, fine partner and amazing lover, Mister Stoppable?'_

"You won't get anything out of me, Dragon," she murmured defiantly.

'_Oh, I'll break you, my Pretty!' he leered. 'You are helpless and totally in my power!'_

Her right hand let go of the rope and picked up the nearly empty cup from the nightstand. Carefully tipping it over her torso, she gave it a series of gentle shakes until a single ice cube fell out and landed on her midriff.

Setting the cup back down, she grabbed the empty loop again and pretended to struggle in her bonds.

"Aaaahh!" she moaned. "You fiend! I'll tell you nothing!"

The ice cube slipped down her stomach and came to rest in her belly button.

"You monster! Release me at once!"

'_Or what?' Doctor Dragon taunted. 'I have plenty of ice. I'll cool your hot little tummy down until you're begging for me to warm you back up!'_

"You'll be sorry when my boyfriend, Ron Stoppable gets here. He turned back an alien invasion so he'll make short work of you!"

'_Ron Stoppable may be strong and fearless but this lair is well hidden and he'll never find you in time!' And he began to laugh maniacally._

She reached for the cup and tipped it again to drop another piece of ice onto her stomach.

"Ahh! It burns, it burns!" she whispered as it slid down her freckled flesh and pushed the first cube out of her dimpled navel. That chunk of frozen water continued its slow melt and meandered further south, over her lower belly until it slid to a stop against the waistband of her cargos.

A bit lower, beneath the taupe colored fabric, she felt the pooling of more moisture, though somewhat warmer than the spreading pool on her stomach.

She writhed on the bed, pulling at the pieces of rope and imagined—not a semi-darkened college dorm room but a shadowy dungeon with hot, bright lights directed down at her taut, vulnerable flesh. As the imaginary villain gloated and leered over her helpless form, she fantasized her rescue by Earth's greatest hero—and her boyfrie—_lover_, Ron Stoppable!

_After pummeling her captor into purple paste, he would tenderly lift her from her altar of pain and carry her away to their fortress of solit—love nest. Where he would lay her down on their bed—a bed that felt much like this—but bigger, of course—and would gently (at first) kiss away her pain. She could almost feel his lips…then his tongue…as they traced a burning path down—_

Unexpectedly, a key sounded in the lock and the redhead hurriedly extracted her left hand from the noose that confined it.

She was loosening the loops around her ankles when her roommate, Jessica, entered their dorm room and flipped on the overhead light.

"Talk about crappy blind dates," she was saying, "I told Romeo I had a headache and he asked if I had a brain tumor! Can you believe that? He's lucky I didn't—" The freckled, blonde, ex-Middleton Mad Dog cheerleader stopped and stared at her sheepish roommate.

"Holy crap, Liz! You really need to talk to a professional about this stuff! I mean, I get the bondage stuff...but dressing up like Kim is kind of pervy, I think."

**RSVP**

The problem wasn't in finding a vehicle. There were hundreds to choose from as he jogged down the road. Trucks peeking out from under tons of rubble, busses angled into yawning crevices like diving submarines, cars stacked on top of one another or walls or buildings as if the tidal wave had possessed an impish sense of humor.

No, the real problem was finding a vehicle that would still run.

It seemed like providence when, after an hour or so of trudging through a collapsed city maze of broken streets and toppled structures, he found an abandoned but working sport bike.

A Kawasaki ZZR1400!

It wasn't just the 1,352 cc, four-stroke, liquid-cooled, four valve per cylinder inline four engine that lifted his spirits.

Or that it could go from zero to 60 miles per hour in 2.5 seconds with a top speed of 299 kilometers per hour-even more if he disabled the electronic limiter.

The ZZR1400-or the ZX-14 as it was designated back in the States-was known as the _Ninja!_

He took it as an omen.

More importantly, he took it and no one looked at him twice.

At least they didn't until he reached the edge of the evacuation zone.

Then the faces began to turn and look as he blurred by.

They didn't see him, exactly. He had always possessed a quality that rendered him invisible to crowds and unmemorable to witnesses. But these people were exhausted and dazed from losing homes and jobs and, in some cases, family and friends. They only looked up in time to sense movement in the wrong direction. Something was running toward the Invisible Death, not away from it as anyone in their right mind would do.

No one tried to stop him. Why would they? Even if they'd had the strength and were quick enough, it took too much thought, too much concentration to ponder the intent of someone so diametrically opposed to their own survival instincts. Perhaps of even greater importance, here, in this culture, it would not have been polite to interfere with another's so obvious death wish.

And that suited him just fine.

For awhile he almost felt alive again. The rush of the wind blowing through his hair, the fine stinging sensation of grit and dust pelting his face, the heady roar and thrum of power between his legs as he ratcheted up all of his senses to manage a rush of obstacles.

People moved aside as they could hear him coming a long ways off. Piles of masonry, abandoned carts and vehicles, broken pavement remained in his path as though indifferent, deaf, or blind and he had to react quickly or reduce his speed to that of a jogging man on foot.

And what would be the point of that?

Twice he extended his hand and sent a bolt of electromagnetic energy ahead to blast objects out of his path. It was necessary to try it out under such demanding conditions but imprudent to waste reserves that he could not yet measure, so he continued to dodge and detour and occasionally jump the hazards that lay in his path.

"Ahhhhh, booyah!" he cried once with the sheer joy of meeting each unfolding challenge. But the cry seemed forced and inauthentic and he did not yell again.

Before he knew it, the crowds had thinned away to nothing and an unnatural quiet had settled over the landscape. He could sense it, actually feel it—even over the roar of the motorcycle's seventy horses. He increased his speed, opening up the throttle as walls of the city fell away but, as he tore through the countryside, it felt as if he were slowing down, as if the world were revolving beneath his wheels and spinning ahead so that he was working harder and harder to make any headway.

Then, slowly, like a haunted castle appearing out of the mists on the moor, the twin domes of the Genpatsu Nuclear Facilities rose up like two ghostly giants, wreathed in shrouds of steam and smoke.

The security gate had been left wide open from the evacuation of four days before. He slowed the bike as he entered the inner courtyard. And as he glided into the building's great outer shadow, he felt a chill that went beyond the sudden absence of direct sunlight.

He dismounted the bike and took a moment to set it upright on its kickstand. _Silly. As if he expected to need it again._

Shaking his left hand, he triggered a small wisp of blue-green flame It served no purpose, yet, except maybe to still the trembling of one of his hands.

_And so Childe Ronald to the Dark Tower came..._

**RSVP**

"So what makes you so sure that he's headed to the plant?" the director asked as she drove toward the makeshift robotics lab.

Shego sat, huddled in misery, in the passenger seat. "I saw inside his thoughts, Betts. For just a few seconds we were in each others heads and he's aware of the Genpatsu breach."

"He may have overheard me while I was on the phone with Dr. Porter and Agent Du," Betty allowed, "but you both were pretty comatose at the time."

"I'm thinking maybe it was just one of us."

"Still, it's a leap from hearing about a potential meltdown to charging in to fix it, yourself."

"Damn it!" She held up her pale, pink hand. "How do you explain him hijacking my powers and disappearing without a word? I saw a mushroom cloud in his mind!"

"If he's so worried about what might happen, why not let the more experienced human torch tackle the job? Why not collaborate with us in a team effort?"

Shego stared at her as if she couldn't believe her own ears. "Are you so used to ordering people on suicide missions that you can't conceive that maybe some of us aren't ready to die, yet?"

"Again my point, Sheila: if Stoppable felt there was a risk, why—"

"I'm not talking about Ron, you one-eyed asshole!" she practically screamed. "I'm talking about me! You had it all figured out while I was still passed out and compromised! Send in the green-skinned bitch! She's not human so not so big a deal! We'll roll the dice on Shego and maybe the radiation won't kill her outright! Maybe she'll live long enough to get the job done or fix enough of it that you can send a few more fools to their deaths to get the job done!

"And you know what? I probably would have done it! Yeah, even though it makes me so scared I want to puke my guts out! If nobody else had a chance, I guess I'd have to go! The guilt would be too great to do otherwise! I'm the _bad_ girl, here's my chance to atone! What's my life compared to the thousands—maybe tens, maybe hundreds of thousands of lives damaged or lost if this thing goes unchecked?

"When you thought about how I'd figure that I had no other choice, did you consider that maybe I wouldn't _want_ to? That I'd be out of my mind with fear? With self-loathing, as I forced myself to walk into a nuclear kill-zone?" She grabbed the director's sleeve, mindless of the danger of compromising her driving. "Well, Ron _did!_ He knew that maybe I still had a life that I felt might be worth living! Maybe I wanted the time, the months and years to atone for the bad things that I've done! Do you know what he said to me when he took my powers?"

"You've been a little reticent about some of the things that have happened between the two of you—"

"He said now I could be _normal_!" Shego turned her head away. "Now I can be _ordinary_," she said softly, looking out the passenger window.

"I guess he doesn't understand the risks as well as you—"

"You don't get it, do you?" she snarled, turning back to the director. "I saw inside his head and his control slipped for just a moment. That synthodrone of Possible reached into his mind and his heart and shredded _everything!_ He thinks that his best friend since before Kindergarten _hates_ him! Worse: _despises_ him. Holds everything he stands for, every sacrifice he's ever made—for her—in utter contempt and derision! That thing then _killed_ his pet rat! Mock if you will but he loved that ugly little bugger as much as the princess! Maybe more! And she—_it_—killed the poor little thing! Right in front of him! And then…and then…" Shego's voice broke. Her head was filled with those origami images and emotions that unfolded in her understanding. _Yori's love…the wedding…the love and the healing…a child conceived…and then the horrific understanding that even the universe doesn't think you are worthy of love. _

_That it holds your happiness in contempt. _

_That pain and sorrow and loneliness and rejection are your lot in life and if you dare to aspire to more, the universe will come back to bitch-slap you again and repeat the lesson that you. are. not. worthy._

She understood that cosmic revelation better than anyone else.

But she could not put it into words for anyone else.

"He has a death wish," she said finally. "It's not just that he thought he could spare me…" _Let this cup pass from my lips_, she thought. "…but that he doesn't care now if he lives or dies."

"You're saying he's suicidal," Betty said flatly.

Shego considered. "Not exactly. He'll go in and do his damnedest to finish the mission. But, once he's done, I think he'll be disappointed if he's still alive."

Betty nodded. "Not suicidal. But the next best thing."

"Yeah."

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**ABOUT THE CHAPTER TITLE: "Childe Roland" is a shortened version of the title of ****the classic Robert Browning poem, "Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came." It was inspired by a line from Shakespeare's play, ****King Lear****: "And so Childe Roland to the Dark Tower came." Which is also the last line of the Browning poem. This line is echoed in the last sentence of the scene where Ron enters the Genpatsu facility: "And so Childe Ronald to the Dark Tower came..."**

_**Other author's have drawn inspiration from this work, including Wm. Mark Simmons in "One Foot in the Grave," book one of his "Almost a Vampire" series.**_

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**Authors/Notes: **

_**I'm noticing that the "Hits" and "Visitors" stats suggest a possible aberration when I repost multiple chapters. After reposting three chapters last night, I've watched the numbers pretty much double for the last chapter while the previous two show half as many visitors. Either readers are skipping ahead to the last chapter on the pull-down menu without realizing that there were three reposts in all—or they're re-reading all three but coming back to the last chapter to see if the next is available. I'd have more faith in the latter theory if it wasn't for the spike in "Visitors" stats, which don't duplicate like the "Hits" numbers do. Perhaps I should limit the reposts to one chapter a day…**_

_**(6/15/2014) Uberscribbler suggested the motorbike change to the Kawasaki Ninja and says I should come up with a last name for Liz so there's no confusion between the two redheaded former Mad Dog cheerleaders. I need some help, people! Last names for more of the KP cast?**_

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**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 10**

_Pavelius 4/20/11 . chapter 10_

So.. time to catch up with the recent chapters... FF didnt like me last week (couldnt sign in and such...).

_**Done the same to me from time to time, especially when I want to post a chapter…**_

For the long/short chapter issue... personally i like longer chapters, but i can imagine its a bit hard to handle 20 pages of Word in a row... so its up to you how you write it...

_**Longer takes longer, shorter is quicker. As a reader, I prefer long chapters. As a writer…?**_

Onward to the review: Stealing Shegos power? Hmm.. Shego without green.. reminds me of the Barkin/Shego episodes...

_**Now that was just creepy…**_

Dunno how i feel about the nuclear plant thingy... its really close to the reality out there.. but then again.. its your story, you could have raiding dinosaurs in the Middletown mall and it would be working ;)

**_No fair hacking my computer files: the dinosaurs are supposed to be a surprise later on!_**

So Ron is really trying to kill himself or at least not really trying to survive... lets see how this works out.. and im still waiting for Kims reappearrance..

_**Maybe I should do a reverse "Tootsie": Ron dies, Kim cuts her hair, dyes it blonde, changes her make-up to include freckles…hey, the story is supposed to be about Ron…**_

And for the lack of reviews... dunno... maybe it is because you dont ship the most popular pairings (K/R... Kigo).. and that your theme is rather dark after the first chapters.. i like it that way, but as my (really short) profile says, i am a passionte reader, but i suck at frequent reviews (at least the amount of them) and i can imagine, some other readers do so too..

_**Hmmmm…a little late to change this into a KIGO story—guess I'm screwed. But since it's Ron-centric, maybe a RONKKEN?**_

Keep it up..

Pavel

**_Thanks man! I aways enjoy your feedback. Even when you correctly guess what's coming next. _**

**_;-) R~13_**

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_Sentinel103 2/9/12 . chapter 10_

Ahh has Eckles been working with you on this one Rip? It has the feel of one of his charater assessments.

Larry (Sentinel 103)

**_Alas, no. Just the one PM awhile back and I haven't heard from him since. R~13_**

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_Uberscribbler 12/8/12 . chapter 10_

I'm trusting that someone made the connection between address and source material, else you wouldn't have spilt the beans so quickly. Le sigh. And here I thought I was being clever.

**_Yes, there was a footnote at the end of last chapter that Feudor came up with correct answer around Chapter 19. I'm happy to give that away now while still trying to keep actual plot points a secret. But yours was a good guess and quite logical considering the other factors—head of family working at Space Center, ._**

That said...this is waaaaaaaaay beyond anything I was expecting. First the scene in the college dorm, next the confab between Shego and Betty...agog doesn't quite cover my reaction. I'm seriously starting to wonder if Rufus isn't the lucky one to be well out of this lunacy.

**"****_Agog"? I'm concerned that you're agog before the real lunacy truly begins... R~13_**

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_Some Dude 8/24/13 . chapter 10 _

Damn... Ron's really losing it huh?

**_Oh, yeah... R~13_**


	11. Getting A Head

**Author's Notes: _I am being chided to provide more last names for the other cheerleaders and any additional members of the KP Universe who are only known by their first names in the official canon. (Like Crystal in this chapter...) I'm taking suggestions-and any that I use will result in that contributor having an OC "named" after them. _**

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**Required Disclaimer:** Everything related to Kim Possible belongs to the Disney folks. My own involvement outside of the plot: "nun" er...none! (Sorry, bad pun. You'll see…)

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**Chapter Eleven – Getting a Head**

Gloved hands clutched at a hooded head as Mastermind stared at the reports on the desk. The level of incompetence among the recruits to the evil overlord's plan was breathtaking: no wonder a pair of high school kids kept handing these cretinous criminals their heads!

Most of the mistakes—so far—could be corrected.

But the loss of the Flanner girl—and what she took with her while making her escape…

Mastermind trembled with rage. If the girl genius was not recaptured soon, along with the vital component to The Plan, there would be some serious "adjustments" made to the minion pool.

Gloved fists clenched impotently.

_Oh, yes! Heads _were_ going to roll! _

**RSVP**

After an hour of winding through endless hallways and corridors he discovered what looked like the right door. It was half concealed by a huge mound of rubble from a semi-collapsed ceiling and partial wall.

A hand protruded from the pile of broken concrete and masonry.

He began to carefully dig through the rubble so as not to trigger a second collapse. A head began to emerge.

"Hey, I know you…" Ron recognized the emerging face as that of Oliver, Dr. Vivian Porter's humanoid robot from the robot rumble and his unmasking at the Middleton Space Center.

The corridor wall shifted and more ceiling started to come down. Ron grabbed the robot's head and tried to pull the mechanical man free.

The head popped off!

Ron stumbled back as the corridor became quiet again. "Oh, man…sorry, dude!" Holding the head up with his left hand he stroked his own chin with his right, striking a Shakespearean pose. "Alas, poor Oliver—"

**RSVP**

"—I knew him, Horatio: a robot of infinite jest. Of most excellent fancy—"

"It's The Buffoon," Dr. Drakken grumped. "Why is The Buffoon on TV?"

All eyes turned to the drone-cam monitors. Ron's face now wobbled on the screen for Oliver's field of vision. "—and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is—" his voice crackled from the speakers on the console.

"It can't be Stoppable," Shego said, moving closer to the screen for a better look. "He's quoting Shakespeare and actually getting it right."

"Except for the robot part," Dr. Director observed.

Dr. Porter slid into the chair before the bank of monitors and keyed the microphone. "Mr. Stoppable?"

"Whoa-aoh!" The picture jiggled violently as Ron nearly dropped the robot's head. "Dude! I didn't know you were awake!" His face filled the screen as he brought Oliver's head close to his own. "And why do you sound like a girl?"

"Mr. Stoppable, this is Dr. Vivian Porter. There is a secondary power source located inside Ollie's skull. The cameras in his eyes and the microphones in his ears are providing us with a real-time feed of what is taking place around him. Can you hear me all right?"

"Oh, hey, Dr. P! No, wait: that's just wrong. Not wrong-sick, you understand, just that I know too many Dr. Ps already. I mean there's already Mrs. Dr. P and Mr. Dr. P and I guess I could call you Miss Dr. P—unless you got married since I last saw you—but then I guess I could call you _Ms._ Dr. P, either way—and if you did get married, maybe your last name is a different initial, now—unless it's not—or maybe you're one of those hyphenate ladies—like if you married somebody named Jones—then you'd be Mrs. Dr. Porter-Jones—hey, Mrs. Dr. P-J!—which would probably turn into a whole new nickname, like Dr. Pajamas—which maybe—"

"I was wrong," Shego muttered. "It _is_ Stoppable, after all."

Dr. Porter laughed. "No Ronald, I'm still single. And you can call me Viv."

_Was she flirting with him?_ Shego growled under her breath, stalked up to the monitors and snatched the microphone out of the hot, blonde roboticist's hand. "Stoppable? Get your ass back out here, right now, so I can kick it like a soccer ball all the way back to Tokyo!"

Ron scrunched up his face. "Gee, Viv, I see you've upgraded your robot since we helped expose Dr. Fen. Now he can do the scary, monster voice!"

"STOPPABLE!"

It was Dr. Director's turn to snatch the mic away. "Mr. Stoppable, this is Dr. Director. What is your plan?"

"Well, not to come back out right away, that's for sure! My ass is still sore from the last time Shego got in my way."

"Mine, too…" Drakken muttered behind her.

"Seriously, Ronald."

"Seriously? Well, no need to waste time with a lot of details you already know seeing as how you were discussing the plan with Agent Du-du this morning."

"You were supposed to be asleep."

"Lots of supposed-to-be's in this world, Liz. You and I both know that too well. It's why we're here, right now, in fact. Well…actually, I'm in here and you're out there."

Elizabeth Director was momentarily nonplussed: well-known associates might call her "Betty" on a casual basis. Shego would call her "Betts" when she was in a more mellow mood. But only a couple of people had ever called her "Liz"—it was a diminutive of her name reserved for only her most intimate acquaintances. She shook off the thought. "If you were eavesdropping all that well," she told him, "then you know the plan called for _Shego's_ unique skills and immunities."

"Yeeeaah, about that. I'm not sure there's any answer to that that isn't going to make her madder." The image on the monitor swung wildly as he tucked the head into the crook of his left arm like a football. "I mean, I could say I'm doing it because I'm a boy and she's a girl and it had something to do with chivalry…" He threw his right shoulder against the partially blocked door: there was a shower of bricks and dust and he was through. "…she wouldn't like that because she pretends so hard that sentimentality means nothing to her." He started moving down the next corridor and Dr. Porter activated the drones to follow him now that the way had been opened.

"I could say that I've got the better shot at this because of my MMP," Ron continued as he glanced at the occasional site map posted at the junctures where one hallway met another or provided access to stairs and elevators. "And since I can borrow her mojo, while she can't borrow mine, I'm the double-threat here while she'd just be the single."

"So you are affirming that your…" Dr. Director hesitated. Ron had still not been very forthcoming about the nature, origin, or parameters of his recently discovered powers. "…your blue glow protects you from the radiation levels around the reactor?" She could tell from his hesitation that he heard the question.

He continued answering the previous question, however, without acknowledging her concerns about the inhuman levels of exposure. "She won't like that because it would mean acknowledging that I'm better at something than she is."

"HEY!" Shego bellowed, furious for reasons other than the ones Ron was enumerating, "I borrowed yours before you borrowed mine or we'd still be buried under that day-care center you were about to drop!"

"What's that?" He tapped the robot's head in the crook of his arm. "I think the speaker in this thing is starting to distort. I can't understand some of the noises it's starting to make. Anyway, since she's already pissed and going to kick my ass, anyway, I might as well tell the truth…"

Dr. Porter tapped one of the screens showing the sensor readouts from the robot's head. The radiation levels were already shading past 200 rems on the Roentgen scale.

"…I've always been jealous of Shego's plasma powers. I figured here's the chance to take them out for a test drive. They're not only badical but also kinda cool-looking. And if I like 'em, I might just keep 'em. The bonus being that the Ron-man's ass is a little safer from the fiery green ass-kicking he keeps hearing so much about." He stopped at the next four-way intersection. "Which way do I go from here?

The director consulted her computer tablet. "Go to your left."

Shego took advantage of her juggling to grab the microphone. "Stoppable…Ron! Kim didn't kill Rufus! It—"

Betty dropped her tablet and clapped her hand over the mic head. "What are you doing?"

"The only reason he's in there," Shego growled, "is because he doesn't care if he lives or dies!"

"Does it matter?" the director said, wrestling for control. "He's our best chance! Maybe our only chance!"

"Shouldn't it be _his_ decision? And either way, he should know the truth!"

"The truth is just going to get him distracted. And that could be bad for him as well as the hundreds of thousands he might save!"

Dr. Porter stared at the two women fighting for control of the microphone and then glanced at the radiation readings again: 230 rems and rising. She slipped out of her chair and ran over to the tables where two of the three B-B bots were fully assembled and the third was nearing completion. "Dr. Freeman! Can you finish their programming in the next fifteen minutes?"

He shook his head. "To be on the safe side, I'd need the better part of the day to finish downloading and debugging stray codes. Then we'd want to run tests—"

She shook her head. "Mr. Stoppable is already getting enough exposure to make a normal human being sick, very sick. And the levels are rising the closer he gets to the reactor. He'll die if he gets much closer or stays much longer. We simply have to get at least one of these units in there as soon as possible and if that means rolling the dice, we'll do it and use the other two units as fallback contingencies."

Dr. Drakken stepped forward. "Part of the Bebe BIOS utilizes artificial intelligence to update programming through learning experiences. You could load the base program, type in specific mission instructions, and allow the positronic brain to fill in the blanks as it goes. Since the cybernetic neural net is a billion times faster than human thought, it can learn a lot faster than a human could while making decisions along the way."

"But isn't that dangerous?" Dr. Bortel asked. "Didn't you lose control of them the last time you gave them the potential for autonomy?"

"We could embed an overriding fail-safe command to complete the primary mission and then shut down, pending a programming overhaul," Freeman countered.

Dr. Porter nodded. "Make it so. Cyrus, those polymers I gave you: can you do something to modify their appearance? That blue, metallic death-mask appearance seriously creeps me out!"

"Yes, Doctor. I've programmed three different sets of nanites to apply the various textures and hues so that all three units will be distinguishable from each other. As soon as Drew is finished with the third—"

"Why don't you get started on the first two, now," she suggested. We may have to field all three before we're done, here." She glanced over her shoulder at the wrestling match that continued by the monitors. "There's been enough foot-dragging already."

**RSVP**

The lights dimmed and a pulsating beat was taken up by the dumbeki. At the sound of the zaghareets a belly dancer swept onto the floor, slithering and whirling between the tables and waving her veil as a prelude to the dance. Then the oud, kanoon, and bouzouki took up the music and she began the _Beledi_ portion of the dance out in the center of the restaurant.

The diners paused as the waiters cleared away their appetizers of falafel and hummus and stuffed grape leaves. The woman in the spotlight commanded their attention. Her wavy brown tresses spilled down over her shoulders, lifting up and floating away as she swooped and spun. Her brassiere was sheathed in gold coins like scale mail, as was the wide belt about her hips that anchored the dark diaphanous, split-skirt that fell to her ankles. Her skin was color of honey and caramel and the sapphire that winked from her deep-set navel matched her mysterious eyes that danced above the veil that obscured her lower face. Anklets of bells rang over her bare feet, the small, cymbal-like zills chimed against her fingers, and ropes of beads tinkled from her throat, wrists, and the anchor points of her abbreviated costume. She was color and sound in rhythmic motion.

She moved around the circle of tables that bordered the dance floor, pausing here, teasing there, using her knowledge of psychology to select "moves" for specific patrons to maximize the effect of her performance—and the tips she would collect to augment her meager salary for the evening.

As the waiters brought out fresh plates, heaped with quail, kebda, bamia, howawshi, molokhia, and koshari, the music changed. The little band started working out improvisational solos on the various instruments as she segued into the _Taxim_ phase of the dance.

As she moved, she mentally divided the men (and more than a few of the women) into two distinct groups: those that stared at her like a piece of meat and those that appreciated the artistry of the Middle Eastern dance forms—and the skills she brought to the performance.

And then there was that seemingly nice old man from the "old country" who had asked Hakim just last week if he would sell her to him…

She was almost surprised when the restaurant owner refused. Hakim was infamous in his tight-fistedness when it came to money. He had turned down all of her requests for a raise even though it was obvious that she was his most popular dancer and he did twice as much business on the nights when she performed.

She began "dancing off the veil:" removing the swath of gossamer that swaddled her torso, an inch at a time as the _Tcheftetelli_ rhythm took over. Easing the veil from its moorings in her left shoulder strap and her girdle at her right hip, she danced toward one of the high rollers' tables with it held before her face, masking all but her eyes. The audience recognized the form as "The Sphinx Looks Out" and murmured approval.

Now the gossamer seemed to take on a life of its own as she performed "The Frame", "The Swirling Cape", and "The Canopy" in quick succession. She darted toward the well-dressed man and draped it over his shoulders, collecting a pair of hundred dollar bills in one of the smaller loops of pearls in her girdled belt. As she made another round of the tables, she collected additional bills—fifties, twenties, tens, even some fives and ones from the cheapskates and the ones with annoyed wives and girlfriends. Working the deeper parts of the room, she collected even more money away from the glare of the spotlight. Bills were tucked into the waist of her skirt, the straps of her brassiere, even slid into the décolleté where the golden cups pressed her breasts together like the mouth of a fleshy piggy bank. It was both thrilling and demeaning: knowing that she had such power of her audience but feeling a bit like a stripper, as well. It was a time-honored tradition of the Middle Eastern restaurant venue but she still had to endure the occasional inappropriate touch or caress.

She returned to the center of the floor and the kemanche wailed like a lost soul as she dropped to her knees and arched her back. Her long, wavy chestnut hair swept across the floor as she undulated farther and farther back. Now the back of her head was just inches from the floor as she formed a serpentine arch of flesh, silk, and hair. The patrons watched, hypnotized, as her tawny skin glistened with perspiration and her belly fluttered to the beat of the zills on her fingertips and the dumbeki in the band.

For a moment, both she and the audience were transported back a thousand years to a desert palace, a sunken grotto in the harem, with tiled mosaics, and turbaned pashas reclining upon opulent cushions and oriental rugs, the spiced smoke from the hookahs perfuming the air.

Oh Crystal knew her history well enough to know that the popularized imagery of Scheherazade was mostly Western fantasy. But we all needed a little fantasy, now and then, and she was happy enough to provide a little window-dressing for the pay…

…and the opportunity to indulge her own fantasies in the process.

Even as the former Mad Dog cheerleader was working on her degree in Psychology as a modern, emancipated woman, she still harbored a few, less-liberated fantasies of the romance novel variety. Like most of the Harlequin fictions, the style might change—bodice-ripper here, regency there—but immersed in the time and culture of this performance, she knew that, deep down, she wanted her own sexy sultan to dance for in his private chambers…

Amid cries of "Opa!" and "Yasu!" and "Yala!" she churned, coiled, and extended a foot decked with tiny bells. Her hip spiraled upwards and she quickly twisted about, writhing in a blur of colored silk, jewels, and strung coins. Her hands gathered a mass of dark, curly tresses as she rose back to her knees, swaying like a snake poised hypnotically before the charmer's pipes. She regained her feet as the Tcheftetelli rhythm picked up and moved into the Beledi finale.

She closed her eyes and pictured him now: a king among kings, a god among men. She would end her dance sprawled at his feet, awaiting his pleasure. His slave. His concubine. First wife in the harem to Prince Ronald Stoppable.

But he was not here and so the rest of her fantasy would go unfulfilled for yet another night.

Crystal ended the dance and the whole restaurant leapt to their feet. She held out her skirt and a shower of coins filled it as she slowly turned to leave the floor. There were cheers and numerous calls for an encore…but Hakim didn't pay her enough and she still had a Psych test to study for tonight. Besides, the first rule of show biz? Always leave 'em wanting more.

And it wasn't like she didn't know what that felt like, she thought as she remembered blond hair, chocolate brown eyes, and oddly endearing freckles…

Like a frustrated member of a world-wide audience, she, too, wanted more.

**RSVP**

The abbess came around her desk and sat on its front edge.

The young woman seated before her stared at the floor as she rubbed her hands together. "I just want to help. To do something…"

The abbess smiled down at her recent charge. "Sister Justine. It is very noble to want to help others. It is, in fact, the _raison d'etre_ for the order you wish to join. But Japan is a long ways away and there is much to be done right here."

"But their need is very great right now and—"

The abbess held up her hand. "And many who are answering the call to service and support, even as we speak. But, as a postulant about to undertake the novitiate phase of this path that you have chosen, you must still learn to submit your will to God and to the order."

"But is it not God's will that we serve? Even if we must travel far and submit ourselves to danger and hardship?" the young woman murmured.

"My child, many young women enter a convent because they are running away from something—mistakes, unhappiness, their past, the world. But those who would take holy orders must be those who are running _toward_ God. Not away from their problems."

"And you think I am running away, is that it?"

The abbess smiled down at her young charge. "Only time will tell, Justine. That is why the path and the process to taking your final vows will yet involve several years and not just months. Already you have outrun the normal time factor for an initiate. Your zeal and commitment are commendable, my dear. But there is a reason that you may not even take your temporary vows for at least two years and your permanent, solemn vows for some time beyond that. Trust in God's timing, child. You are so young.

"Yes, Reverend Mother. I will learn to be obedient."

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**ABOUT THE CHAPTER TITLE: "Getting A Head". I don't think that I need to explain this one.**

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**A/N 2: ****_As I have said, I like to play my cards a little close to my vest and not give too much away before it actually turns up in the story. But I'm starting to get a little more of the hang of the FanFiction software and just sent a personal message to one of my reviewers. For those who actually take the trouble to post guesses, reviews, and offer feedback, it's kind of nice to reward them with a little inside information. After all, the readers have already affected the storyline in several ways and it's nice to encourage those who are encouraging the continuation of this story. That's not to ask for a bunch of sucking-up or head-patting. Bust my chops if you think I deserve it. Let me know if I get something wrong. Ask me a question and I might answer it privately or publicly. Maybe sooner, maybe later, maybe only in part. Thanks, so far, to all of you who have added RSVP or myself to your notifications or favorites lists. And a special thanks to those of you taking the extra time to post a review or comment._**

_**Has anyone figured out the "ship" yet? **_

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**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 11**

_CajunBear73 4/21/11 . chapter 11_

Personally, I hope Shego wins the battle for microphone. He's got to know.

And I'll hold back from the 'ship' guessing for now.

And is Justine the 'real' name of the Novitiate?

CB73

**_The "real" name? Anything is possible: she could have been switched at birth, an alien in disguise, or, or, maybe a synthodrone… R~13_**

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_sh8ad8ow 4/23/11 . chapter 11_

good chapter please update.

**_Thanks! More to come shortly. R~13_**

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_inkykenrd 8/13/11 . chapter 11_

i like the new rewrite using the old cheersquad.

**_And you'll see more of them in chapters to come! R~13_**

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_Sentinel103 2/9/12 . chapter 11_

Now Rip it looks like Ron is willing to make the sacrifice not really caring now what Yori implored him to do. In saving hundreds of thousands to a cruel fate he must feel that may be enough to buy himself into the grace of his wife when he enters the afterlife.

Larry (Sentinel 103)

**_Yeah, our Ronnie-boy is still emotionally damaged, despite his cheerful act. Synthokim and the death of Rufus and now Yori seem to have stolen all hopes of future happiness. All that is left for him now is duty and the desire for an honorable exit. _**

_**Your point about Ron hoping to buy himself into the grace of his wife when he enters the afterlife reminds me how this parallels a part of the storyline in the other novel I'm working on right now. The protagonist actually has a death wish and wants to be reunited with his dead wife however she does a better job at keeping in touch than poor Yori, and is always reminding him of the rules. He can't be with her, she tells him, if he throws his life away—and not trying hard enough to live while fighting impossible odds is just as frowned upon by The Powers That Be. Maybe someone should tell Ron… R~13**_

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_Uberscribbler 12/8/12 . chapter 11_

Everything I said I about the previous chapter. Double it for this one.

No further comment possible.

**_If the last two chapters have rendered you virtually speechless, then I'm afraid that I'm about to lose you altogether. R~13_**

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_Some Dude 8/25/13 . chapter 11 _

I liked the whole chapter ( especially the belly dancing scene)... but I don't like the fact that your dragging out the whole nuclear thing.

**_Sorry, Dude: I drag out everything. ;-) R~13_**

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**_G. Login chapter 11 . 7/11/14_**

Oh I see all the girls from school wanted to be with Ron. But because of the school 'food chain' they didn't want to risk their reputations.

One fantasizes about being saved by him while another wishes to be his slave girl and 'first wife'. also can't wait to see what the others think about while thinking about him.

_**Keep reading for more peeks inside of people's heads...**_

Also loved the part a few chapters ago about when Shego and Betts where talking about him and asked what did he think about older women and that the data was inconclusive lol.

_**Age is just a number...as we shall eventually see. And sometimes it's not even a number! (Rubs hands together and cackles evilly.)**_

Given that maybe Betty is starting to think of Ron differently. Then you also mentioned that thinks between Anne and James aren't going so well.

_**You have no idea...R~13**_


	12. Atonement - Part II

**A little apology to my readers…**

_**After writing about how I don't like author's notes and then repeatedly breaking my vows, I go and do something in this chapter that I swore I'd never do. And then I did it twice!**_

_**Warning: songfics ahead!**_

_**I'm so ashamed… Riplakish 13**_

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**Required Disclaimer:** _I make no claim to the characters or rights regarding Kim Possible and the Disney Corporation. And if you don't like the plot, I disavow that, too._

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**Chapter Twelve – Atonement—Part II**

She was exhausted.

Just for a moment, she told herself, and laid her head down on the table, using a short stack of books as a pillow.

Was this what it had been like for Possible? School and classes and homework and cheer practice—and then busting her hump, above and beyond, fighting super-villains and running all over the world on school nights?

Just spending a few extra hours a week training in the martial arts and letting those Global Justice people analyze her moves and pick her brain was seriously kicking her butt these days. Thank God that Cyclops bitch had taken off for Japan, essentially giving her the week off.

From the GJ stuff that is.

Classes _and_ Sorority were another thing, however.

Not to mention cheerleading.

Cheerleading was the worst of it even though there was very little responsibility that went with just being an alternate. Somehow, in just a few short months, she had gone from being at the top of the Food Chain and Co-cheer Captain in high school to struggling along as another anonymous college freshman. From bad to worse, she now had to kowtow to inferior cheer "talents" who held their positions on the college squad by dint of seniority.

Most of the Upperton U. cheerleaders' claim to their titles was the ability to look hot in even skimpier costumes than the old Middleton two-pieces and shake their "pom-poms" like the skanks down at the Lowerton "meat market."

Even though she was vastly more talented than the lot of them, there was no way a freshman was going to be promoted over the girls who had waited their turns behind the juniors and seniors before them. And once they had figured out that she was better than the rest of them, they had pretty much benched her for most of the games just so that she couldn't show them up.

At least the sorority hazing wasn't personal: they treated _all_ of the new pledges like dirt.

She sighed on the edge of sleep. Nobody here cared about who she was or what her social status had been for the past four years. Nobody even knew her name…

"Bonnie?" said a familiar voice.

The former Middleton Queen B opened an eye and gazed upon the sparkling features of Ron Stoppable.

**RSVP**

The blue glow surrounding Ron Stoppable intensified as he drew closer to the reactor room. He had peeled off his shirt and his skin was now slick with sweat as the temperature moved into the triple digits. He briefly thought about abandoning his pants, as well, but was mindful of the cameras in the robot head that he continued to carry as a communications link with Dr. Director and GJ support team.

Besides, if anything went wrong, he wanted to go out on a high note. When the thing you are most often remembered for is losing your pants, well…

Suddenly the corridor flipped ninety degrees to the vertical and the lights crashed out.

**RSVP**

To Bonnie's bleary vision Ron Stoppable's features were a little rough and the metallic gold hue of his skin erased the signature freckles that had marked his cheeks ever since she had known him. More disturbing were the two, tiny pink diamonds that replaced his eyes. But the ears were unmistakable and the tiny engraved letters around the v-neck collar proclaimed: _Ron Stoppable, Pink Sloth._

Bonnie blinked. The dark halo that formed a circle about his head was set against a field of light brown that quivered and seemed to withdraw a bit before returning.

She blinked again, her eyes refocusing, and looked up until the hem of a pink, cashmere top came into view. The fabric strained against the twin prominences of an impressive bosom and, up higher, another familiar face swam into view.

"Uh, Amelia!" Bonnie sat up and leaned back. "Hi! Long time no see." Indeed it had been a long time: Amelia had graduated at the end of Bonnie's sophomore year.

"Mind if I join you for a few?" the dusky beauty asked.

"Sure…pull up a chair…" Bonnie's brain was racing as she tried to figure out what was happening. _A junior willing to be seen in the student union with a freshman nobody?_ And Stoppable's face…she looked down again and saw the smooth tanned flesh of Amelia's belly, framed by the cashmere cropped top and the brick red hip-huggers. The silver dangle of her navel piercing was Ron Stoppable's head, nestled in its ovaled depths. She vaguely remembered some of the bling the jewelry stores offered to crushing girls after Stoppable was identified as a key player in the defeat of the Lowardian invasion.

And not just "girls", she recalled as Amelia sat and her bellybutton disappeared beneath the table—there were fully grown, mature women who seemed to be actually enamored of the froob!

"So, Bonnie…" Amelia stared at her as if weighing something in her mind.

**RSVP**

"Ron? _Ronald?_ Are you all right?"

They had seen the image on the monitor shift violently out of the corners of their eyes: the scientists as they labored over the three robots and the two Global Justice agents as Dr. Director continued to hold a much diminished Shego at bay.

Dr. Porter slid back into her seat before the telemetry equipment. "Mr. Stoppable! Can you hear me?" she asked crisply, snatching the microphone out of the director's extended hand.

The image on the screen appeared to be a portion of the ceiling. A spidery robot scuttled into view: it appeared to be upside-down.

"I think he fell down," Dr. Porter said quietly. "Perhaps the heat and the radiation levels are taking their toll and he blacked out." She double-checked the sensor readings. "One-hundred-and-eight degrees Fahrenheit. Three-hundred-fifty-eight rems."

"Or maybe he just lost his pants and tripped," Drakken muttered to himself—though, as usual, he spoke with sufficient volume to be heard by everyone in the room.

"Shut up!" Shego snapped, whirling on her former partner-in-crime. "Shut up, shut up_, shut up!_"

"Make me," the blue-skinned man retorted. "Ohhhh, that's right! You can't," he taunted. "All this time YOU thought you were all that. And now? _You're_ not! You're nothing special, now, Sheila. You're…you're…ORDINARY!" He grinned and shot her a look of smug malice. "Looks like I'm the only one of value to Global Justice, now!"

Instead of exploding into a counter-rant, the former villainess went very still. And then she began to smile.

It was, however, a smile without any warmth.

"Hey, Betts…" she drawled, "y'know how you wanted to send me into the hot zone before I lost my radiation resistance?"

"How could I forget?" Elizabeth Director answered wryly. "We discussed it at length with you using a number of colorful adjectives and phrases."

"Well, did I happen to mention that Dr. D, here, is _blue_ because of a serum he ingested to render him immune to my own _radiation_ wavelengths?"

The director turned to look at the one associate of Global Justice who was even more unpopular than Agent Du. "But is he immune to the radiation from the Genpatsu reactor?"

Shego shrugged. "I dunno. Why don't we toss him in there and see?"

Dr. Freeman was fascinated by the drama that was continuously unfolding around him. Unfortunately, it was distracting him as he was typing new lines of code into the override program for the B-B bots. Normally, he would have delegated this task to his new intern, Justine Flanner, but she had disappeared mysteriously a couple of months ago. He hadn't refilled the position, yet, hoping she might yet return. She was brilliant and methodical but had probably succumbed to youthful hormones and run off with her new boyfriend. A few weeks of wild abandon and animal rutting and, hopefully, she would return somewhat chastened and ready to re-devote herself to the disciplines of science…

In the meantime, Dr. Freeman was relegated to kind of tasks he was accustomed to delegating.

Which, given all the distractions around him, helped explain the one line of crucial code that was inadvertently changed as he keyed it in.

The B-B units' prime directive was supposed to be: "_Save_ Ron Stoppable at all costs."

Even post-checking would miss the typographical error as it was so close to the original: "**_Serve_** Ron Stoppable at all costs."

**RSVP**

"I see you made it through the invasion," the beige brunette said.

Bonnie, who worked hard on her appearance—particularly spending the hours required in maintaining an all-over-tan year round, had always been envious of Amelia. The older girl seemed to possess an easy sophistication and effortless beauty from her long, silken tresses to her voluptuous figure and fashionable ensembles. But it was her coffee-and-cream complexion that impressed the former Queen B the most. _Genetics? Or her own personal tanning bed?_ She mentally shook herself: _wake up, B; having a conversation here._ "Yeah," she answered, "Though it was pretty scary for a while. You were lucky to be up here in Upperton when Middleton was being hit!"

"Oh, Upperton took damage, as well," Amelia said. "And, in some ways, it was more frightening here: I didn't have my Pink Sloth near by to protect me."

More awake now, Bonnie was actually able to keep her jaw from hitting the table.

**RSVP**

"Whoa! I'm okay! Everything's okay here…" Ron's voice suddenly emerging from the monitor speakers sounded a little shaky.

"Ron!" Shego grabbed the microphone away from Dr. Porter. "Are you all right? What happened?"

"I-I slipped. Fall knocked the breath out of me." There were vague, wet, slidey noises. "Jeez, looks like a synthodrone massacre here! There's green goo at least an inch deep and as far as I can see ahead!"

"That would be reactor coolant," Dr. Porter observed. "You're either getting very close or the leak's even worse than we thought."

The view on the monitor swung wildly again as Ron picked up the robot head and stood back up. The image canted drunkenly and the roboticist hit several buttons on her keyboard. The image froze and then backed up a dozen frames or so. She began typing furiously and the picture zoomed in on a fire extinguisher cabinet set into the wall. There was a vague reflection on the glass door and, as she continued to type, the reflection clarified and was enhance until they could see a ghostly reflection of Ron Stoppable slumped against the wall and barely standing.

"What's that on his face?" Dr, Director asked, leaning over the blonde scientist's shoulder. "Is that blood?"

"Ron? Are you all right?" Dr. Porter released the image and returned the monitor to real time.

The hesitation was brief but telling. "Feeling bondiggity, ladies…" The voice, in contrast, was still shaky. "Got my rod and reel 'cause the Ron-man is going to do a little 'fission'."

It was a decent pun but nobody laughed.

"Once a buffoon, always a buffoon," Drakken said very distinctly in the silence that followed.

Shego whirled and threw out her right hand, screaming: "I _told_ you to shut UP!"

Drakken started to cringe before remembering that Shego had lost her comet powers.

Then jumped back so fast that he fell on his backside as a shower of green and blue sparks trickled from the tips of her fingers.

**RSVP**

"I seem to recall your last conversation with Ron being a total brush-off and the L-word figured prominently."

Amelia smiled. "Don't be silly, Bonnie. It was our way of flirting with each other right under Possible's nose. You know what a psycho-bitch she could be with her sixteen kinds of kung-fu and her 'I can do anything…_to you_.' You should know: you were always flirting with him that way."

Bonnie's jaw just narrowly missed colliding with the table again. "What? Me! Flirt? Stoppable!" _She was still sleeping! That was it! She was passed out right there in the student union, having the weirdest nightmare and probably drooling on her pre-law textbook. Must. Wake. Up._

"Anyway," Amelia continued, "I was wondering if you had spoken with him recently. I've been trying to get in touch with him for months, now, and it's like he's just dropped off the face of the earth. Is he off on some super secret mission? Or just hiding out from his adoring fans? Even though I've made it clear to half of the girls in my sorority that Ron's my boyfriend, there's still a lot of chippies on campus that would like to get a piece of him the next time he comes to visit."

It was really hurting where she was pinching herself so Bonnie finally stopped. "You are telling the girls in your sorority that Ron Stoppable is _your_ boyfriend?"

Amelia looked at Bonnie as if she were running late for the short bus. "He's my _pink sloth_. I'm his _red otter_. Do you know what a rare combination that is?"

"Amelia, Animology was so four years ago! You went off to college and started dating Brick."

Amelia waver her hand. "Oh, Brick has dated everybody. He even went out with Possible."

"Once," Bonnie fumed.

"Once is all anybody ever goes out with Possible. Anyway, couples always kinda go into screensaver mode when one of them goes off to college. But now that Ronnie's a freshman—"

"Ron's enrolled at Upperton?" Bonnie felt faint: no longer at the top of the Food Chain and now, out of the gossip loop, as well.

"Well, sure. Though no one's seen him on campus or at any of his classes. So, I'm asking you, Bon, as one sophisticate to another, where _is_ my pink sloth?"

With a start, Bonnie realized that the other girl was moving her arm, back and forth, ever so slightly. Amelia was playing with the silver dangle in her navel under the table.

**RSVP**

Shego had pulled out her compact and was checking her face in the tiny mirror. No green. But no pink, either. She looked pale. On anyone else it might have suggested an unhealthy pallor. Given the sparks of a few minutes before, it suggested potential.

She turned and once again grabbed the microphone out of Dr. Porter's grasp. "Ron! You don't have to do this! I think I'm getting my mojo back!"

"Heh. Then I better wrap this up before the ass-kicking commences."

"No. I mean, _I_ can do this. You can come back out before it's too late."

"Too late for what, green-eyed lady?" He giggled and began to sing.

"Green-eyed lady, lovely lady, strolling slowly towards the sun / Green-eyed lady, ocean lady, soothing every ragin' wave that comes…"

"Nguh! What is that?" Drakken grumped, still on the floor.

"_Sugarloaf_," Dr. Porter answered. "Or Ron Stoppable doing a pretty good rendition of _Green-eyed Lady_ by Sugarloaf."

The on the monitor image tilted from side to side as Ron weaved down the corridor toward the reactor room. "Green-eyed lady, passions' lady, dressed in love she lives for life to be / Green-eyed lady feels life I never see, setting suns and lonely lovers free."

"I hate song-fics," Drakken whispered with his hands now clamped over his ears.

Shego stood there, seemingly frozen for a moment.

"Green-eyed lady, wind swept lady, rules the night, the waves, the sand…" A door banged open and they could see into the vast, warehouse-sized room where the containment vessel was housed. "Green-eyed lady, ocean lady, child of nature, friend of man…" A dozen cracks in the curved steel walls oozed green coolant near the bottom. The cracks higher up glowed orange where the coolant had dropped precipitously. "Green-eyed lady, passions' lady," Ron continued to sing as he walked toward the giant ball of invisible death. "Dressed in love she lives for life to be…"

"One-hundred-thirty-nine degrees," Dr. Porter announced as Ron lowered the robot head to the ground and fired up nimbi of plasma around his hands. "Eight hundred and seventy-three rems!"

"Green-eyed lady feels life I never see…"

"RON!" Shego suddenly shrieked. "KIM DIDN'T KILL RUFUS!"

"Setting suns and lonely lovers…" his voice faltered, "…free…"

The director made a half-hearted attempt to grab the microphone and then dropped her hand.

"Kim didn't come to your house the day you left for Japan!" Shego continued. "It was a synthodrone disguised to look like Kim!"

The robot head stared steadily at the coolant chamber. Ron had taken dozen steps forward and they could see his back stiffen as he stopped.

"Like Eric?" he said, after a moment. The flames around his hands started to die down.

"Yes, like Eric. Whatever _she_ said, whatever _she_ did that terrible night, _it_ wasn't Kimmie. _It_ was a synthodrone whose mission was to destroy Team Possible. Instead of killing you physically, it was programmed to be a...a..._spiritual_ assassin!"

They could see him take a long, shaky breath and then the flames brightened around his hands, again. "I could ask you why," he said softly, "but it doesn't really matter, now. I'm here and I have a job to do. So, I'm just going to get on with it. Nothing else matters any more…"

"Wait! What?" The microphone dropped from her suddenly nerveless fingers. It shattered against the floor on impact. "That wasn't _our_ synthodrone! _We_ didn't send it! We're the good guys, now!"

"He can't hear you," Dr. Porter said from the floor where she knelt by the broken pieces of the mic. "He might as well be all alone, now."

"Noooo," she wailed, as Ron began to sing a slightly altered version of a song by _The Who_.

"Nobody knows what it's like…to be the bad girl…" He stumbled right up to the containment vessel and leaned against its curved surface. "To be the sad girl…behind green eyes…" He moved to the first crack and set to work on welding it shut by focusing the plasma from his hands into a tight point of super-hot gas. "No one knows what it's like…to be hated / To be fated…to telling only lies…"

As Shego fell to her knees, tears starting to stream down her face, the director whirled on Drakken. "Get up off your worthless blue ass, doctor, and get at least one of those robots in there NOW!"

"But my dreams…they aren't as empty as my conscience seems to be / I have hours, only lonely; my love is vengeance, that's never free…"

One by one, the cracks were welded shut as the scientists struggled to finish the programming and reboot sequences.

Ron's voice grew softer and more strained as he sang, almost as if to himself: "No one knows what it's like…to feel these feelings / Like I do, and I blame you…" The glow that surrounded him like a turquoise fog grew stronger and brighter until he became difficult to see. "No one bites back as hard…on their anger / None of my pain and woe can show through…"

**RSVP**

Bonnie had no more idea of Ron's whereabouts than Amelia but she did have one advantage. Bonnie Rockwaller was a Master of The Game.

Maybe the tall, tanned one was crushing on The Loser for real. Maybe she was just bragging on an old connection to elevate her own social status. Whatever. Bonnie had the more legitimate—not to mention the more recent—connection with Kim's Personal Doormat. And her recent involvement with Global Justice gave her even more veracity as well as a certain amount of cover.

"Amelia," she said, dropping her voice and leaning in as if to share a confidence. "I really can't tell you anything about it because Ron is on a mission in deep cover mode. We're all sworn to secrecy on this."

Amelia's eyes widened. "You—?"

Bonnie nodded. "Ron and I are both working for an international police organization, now."

"You mean Global Justice?"

Bonnie nodded again. "That's the one."

"But—but—how can I—?"

"That's just the thing, A. You _can't_. And not just because Ron's in deep-undercover mode right now. But because some of those covers that he's under…are _mine_. Ronnikens in now my Ron-Ron."

"Ron…Ron…?" Amelia echoed, looking somewhat dazed.

"That's right." Bonnie's smile would have made a super-villain faint with envy. "And I'm his Bon-Bon. So, you see, _any _contact with _my_ boyfriend will be handled through _me_. Are we clear?"

Amelia just stared at her.

"Look, don't make me hurt you. I had to get a little rough with Possible before she saw the light. I wouldn't feel right about using my martial arts training on a civilian." She narrowed her eyes and made the face she used on dates where the boys had gotten a little too fresh.

Amelia pushed back from the table and stood suddenly. "I—I'm sorry, Bonnie. I had no idea. I knew you had a thing for Ron but always assumed you were gonna stick with your Number One."

"My number what?"

"You know…" Amelia blushed. "Not judging, here. Everyone thought you were a terrific couple. I'm sorry it didn't work out for you and the blonde."

"Aren't you the one who said he dates everybody?" If Bonnie's eyes were to get any narrower, she would be squinting.

"Not Brick, Silly. Tara. Wasn't that her name?"

"WHAT!"

"Amp down, Bon. Just saying I'm sorry, that's all."

"But...but...why...Tara...?"

Amelia shrugged. "Did you really think it was some big secret? I mean, you hung out with her even more than Ronnie hung out with Possible. But if you like to swing both ways...? Be Bi and proud!

"I am not Bisexual!" Bonnie yelled.

Heads looked up from all over the Student Union.

Amelia stepped back. "I'll just go now…"

Not so fast!" Bonnie's arm shot across the table and she snared the other brunette's wrist. "I don't like my boyfriend's face buried in your belly. Hand him over…"

**RSVP**

"But my dreams…they aren't as empty as my conscience seems to be / I have hours, only lonely; my love is vengeance that's never free…"

The cameras embedded in the robot's skull were burned out, now. The blue light surrounding and, hopefully, protecting Ron had flared like a star gone nova and the monitor screen was now blank.

The one-way audio continued to function however, though Ron's voice was horribly cracked and fading. He was rasping more than singing, now, and they could only guess what kind of shape he was in with the sensors reporting temperatures past the one-sixty mark and over twelve hundred rems of radiation exposure on site.

"When my fist clenches…crack it open before I use it and lose my cool / When I smile…tell me some bad news…before I laugh…and…act like a fool…"

He began to cough then. Terrible, racking sounds as if his throat was being torn open. When he was done, his voice wasn't much more than a whisper.

"If I swallow anything evil…put your finger down my throat / If I shiver…please give me a blanket; keep me warm…let me wear your coat…"

Now came the sound of retching. It went on and on until it sounded like a series of dry heaves and there was nothing left to bring up but stomach lining.

Shego was on the floor sobbing.

"No one knows what it's like…To be the…bad girl…To be..the…sad…girl…Behind…green…"

There was a thud and a very brief sliding sound before the speakers offered nothing but hiss.

Dr. Porter ran back from the other side of the room where she was putting the finishing touches on the third B-B unit.

She turned up the gain and, for a moment, they heard a very faint sound.

It was a voice that sounded like a hundred miles of dust and broken glass.

"Oh…hey…" it mumbled. "Rufus…buddy…where'ya…been…?"

And then all was silence and deadly hiss.

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**ABOUT THE CHAPTER TITLE: "Atonement – Part II" **_**bookends the arc that was established in "Atonement – Part I." Ron seeks to end his pain and prove his worth through an act of penultimate sacrifice. Even after he learns that it was a synthodrone and not Kim who killed Rufus and said those awful things to him, is not enough to turn him back from his fate. He has been broken by these circumstances—whether they were true or not—and he no longer cares about what happens to himself.**_

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**Author's/Notes:**

_**It's amazing what a little tweaking can do. Most of the revisions on these older chapters fall into two camps: a little cleanup or re-clarifying a sentence or three; and inserting an extra scene into some of the chapters—most of them quite short. It's always a bit tricky putting new scenes in: you risk throwing off the rhythm you established when you created the original structure—especially where there's a sense of urgency and suspense. Like, RON IS ABOUT TO DIE—but first we'll take a little time out to check on what Bonnie's doing… Of course, that can work for you as well as work against you but it's always a concern. **_

_**Since the older chapters have been rewritten or expanded more often, the rewrites will become more extensive as I get into the later material. **_

**_And now a big shout-out to _****Old Soldier****_ who pointed out that Amelia was a red otter, not a silver badger. The chapter is now copy corrected. _**

**_Also PyroNaga who raised the issue of Ron calling Elizabeth Director "Liz" instead of "Betty." Although I offered my explanation in the reviews section with the explanation resurfacing later in the story as I had originally intended, the actual "Liz Director" ish doesn't even come up again until later in Part II (which is waaay too long) so I offered more immediate claification in this latest edit & repost._**

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**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 12**

_Pavelius 4/24/11 . chapter 12_

Hmm.. after reading this chapter, i am going to take a wild guess and say, that you are at least a little bit inspired by weirdbeards "Partners in Crime" and cuz of that, the 'ship' is going to be Rongo?

**_Do you want it to be Rongo? Well, I can definitely say…maybe…_**

Don't slap me if i'm wrong!

Anyway, good chapter and nice songs..and i am glad that Ron would sing them at english, because the german voiceactor sucks XD

Pavel

**_As for "Partners in Crime," um, no. But after your comment I went and read it—no easy feat in terms of its length (so far) but that is no criticism on my part as this story will be another one of those multiple chapter epics before I'm done. I can see how the question arises: both stories are Roncentric, epic, and include the Bebes as supportive characters. In RSVP, however, the "Bebes" are evolving into something different and there are only three of them. Of course, I don't know where the bard is going with his story as it isn't finished, yet (I hope) and he's taking too damn long to post another chapter. I think I'll wander over to his site and pound on his door… R~13_**

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_sh8ad8ow 4/24/11 . chapter 12_

great chapter please update soon.

**_As long as readers are responding and reviewing, I'll keep posting! R~13 (hint, hint…)_**

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_elyk36 8/13/11 . chapter 12_

enjoying the rewrite very much looking forward to the remainder of the story.

**_Me, too! I can't wait to find out how it all turns out… (grin) R~13_**

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_Sentinel103 2/10/12 . chapter 12_

You'd better tell Ron yourself. It seems like Ron might have actually got it through his head that Kim didn't kill Rufus. Lemme see here Amelia thinks that Bon Bon and Tara were an item? Well I don't know about that...hey what ever.

So plenty of angst to go around here and you know when somebody starts seeing dead friends he's either nutso or he's 'bout ready to bite the big one.

Larry (Sentinel 103)

**_True, _****Sentinel****_, Ron's been brought up to speed "intellectually." But I think he's not caught up "emotionally," yet. Even if it wasn't Kim who said and did those terrible things, it somehow still feels like it. I think that the years of mockery, disregard, and disrespect from others finally caught up to Ron when suddenly felt betrayed by the woman he loved and in whom he's invested so much. When it seemed like she was suddenly leading the parade, the parade was finally able to get inside his head and his heart. The new knowledge that it wasn't Kim doesn't get rid of the rest of the parade immediately; it will take time to deal with those feelings now that they've gotten a foothold. Unfortunately, time is one thing that poor Ron seems to have run out of at this point..._**

**_As for Bonnie & Tara (BARA? TANNIE?), a lot of Bon-centric FanFiction plays up the close relationship between the Queen of Mean and Platinum Peacemaker. Do I buy into the Slash elements of some of the Fan circles? No. But it's fun to give it a nod through other character's assumptions-just like the KIGO reference in Chapter 8. The former head of the food chain just got schooled in what it's like to be the victim of misinformed gossip—something she's probably had far more experience with from the other end... R~13_**

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Old Soldier 9/14/12 . chapter 12

Actually, Amelia was a Red Otter not a Silver Badger. :)

OS

**_Hey, thanks man! I really rely on readers like you to help me fix and fine-tune the story. Corrections or suggestions are always welcome. I can't promise to tailor the story to suit everyone but I always want to get it "right" as much as possible. Corrections have been made. R~13_**

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Uberscribbler 12/9/12 . chapter 12

What the...

**_Good question. _**

**_I think… _**

**_R~13_**

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CajunBear73 12/10/12 . chapter 12

No matter what, Ron sings a mean love song...

**_Somehow a rap number seemed less appropriate here... ;-) R~13_**

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_Some Dude__ 8/25/13 . chapter 12 _

Brilliant, just brilliant. I loved this chapter.

**_Thanks! Still setting the stage, you know... R~13_**

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_PyroNaga chapter 12 . Oct 5 _

Hmmp, somehow I think the mastermind might be warhok since his death wasn't confirmed, or Zorpox somehow manifested himself into a physical form. hey, anything's possible for a stoppa... (oops) If the Mastermind's 'dear' is electronique then Zorpox would be most fitting. and it would be an epic tale as two versions of the same 'chosen one' battle upon the shattered Earth. No, No, wait they put aside their differences to Repel the Alien invasion.2.0 and then they marry and live happily ever. (Pyro: Don't blab your ideas for people to see, you stupid Lunkhead. well, except the marriage part. no one would use that.) Err. right...

**_Fascinating ideas, PN. I am tempted to explore them in the alternate universe chapters of RSVP IV: The Kimarrilion. But, alas, such is not the case in this universe..._**

A friendly advice, your stories are too detailed, either you're resourceful or spend a lot of time researching about different cultures. Personally, I'd devote that time into coming up with more interesting ideas and making them juicy.

**_Well, I am taking my time in developing the various plot threads so that may make some things seem to be too detailed. As for "Juicy"? Juice is coming...just don't expect a free-for-all orgy involving all parties...or at least in the next couple of chapters, anyway..._**

I know i started reading your story late but you said your still tinkering with it so i'd like to point out that Ron called Dr. director 'Liz' in chapter 11.

**_Ah, that is intentional. Dr. Elizabeth Director is called "Betty" by most and "Betts" by Shego but Ron will, upon occasion, go the other way with the diminutive "Liz" (from Elizabeth) setting their relationship apart from the others. But since you've raised the point, I've gone back and addressed it in the story so it won't red-flag any future readers. Thanks for helping me make something less confusing (I hope)—reader feedback is always good whether I make a mistake, a typo, or are just unclear, vague, or confusing._**

**_Of course, there are times when I am actually TRYING to be unclear, vague or confusing! Unfortunately, this wasn't one of them… R~13_**

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_sakura89luis chapter 12 . 7/15/14_

this was a sad chapter, specialy the last part. CAN'T stop reading this story. just brilliant.

_**Thanks for not being disappointed that I'm too "angsty". R~13**_


	13. Danger, Will Stoppable!

**Required Disclaimer:** _I had a Mickey Mouse wristwatch when I was nine. That is my only claim to owning any Disney property._

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**Chapter Thirteen – "Danger, Will Stoppable!"**

Once upon a time the unitards "worn" by the Bebes were nothing more than black torso plating that was part of the robots' overall metal shell. These new units wore actual meta-fabrics, currently in smock form, that were (in most senses) separate from their actual forms.

The nanite embedded polymers had been applied and then programmed to a variety of purposes and appearances. The greater amounts had spread to cover the exoskeletons and provide an outer appearance of human flesh, complete with skin-tone, muscle definition and even epidermal texture and temperature. Other polymers had been reprogrammed into approximations of human hair as well as mimicking secondary characteristics such as teeth, fingernails, lifelike eyes, and even—

"Doctor, _what_ are you doing?" Vivian asked sharply.

Drakken dropped the hem of the grey smock and stepped back from the robot on the table. "Just making sure everything was…in place. Finished. Aren't these grey potato sacks a little low-brow for such high-tech?"

Dr. Bortel chuckled. "Oh, the fabric is another nanite embedded polymer. It can be programmed to change color, shape and consistency to reform into the garment needed for different tasks or missions. Once the B-B units are activated the robots can literally change their apparel by thought alone."

Drakken crossed his arms and glowered. "Hmpf! I think my original design was more efficient. And I liked their azure hue better, too: so soothing…and where are their moles?"

"_Their_ moles looked too much like my _beauty mark_," Dr. Porter snapped. "It creeped me out! Now get back to work! Even though the temperature and radiation levels are dropping, Ron Stoppable may be dying. I want him retrieved _fifteen minutes ago_! Dr. Freeman—"

"Done!" the black scientist announced fro his console. Starting reboot sequence…now!"

"Did you download the blueprints for the plant with Ron's last known location?"

"Yes."

The director stopped pacing and stepped closer. "How long before the first is fully operational?"

There was a gust of wind and the three tables were suddenly empty.

"I'm guessing…right now," Dr. Bortel mused, as she looked at the slowly closing outer door.

**RSVP**

Monique limped into Club Banana with a few minutes to spare and ducked into the back to check her makeup.

Bonnie had only gone on one mission with Kim so Dr. Director had cut her loose before taking off for some sudden emergency. Since Monique had subbed for Ron on more than one occasion, she was expected to continue training with Joss until told otherwise.

_And "otherwise" couldn't be too quick in coming!_

That girl loved to "scrap" even more than her famous cousin and didn't care about broken nails, visible bruises, and getting all dirty and sweaty. There was only one way that Monique enjoyed getting "dirty and sweaty" but her love live had been a little comatose as of late…

Carefully applying concealer to hide her purpling left eye, she sighed and wondered if her loyalty to Kim required her to keep putting herself in harm's way—i.e. between Joss Possible and the increasingly aggressive and petulant GJ trainers.

Aside from the bumps, cuts, and bruises, she was struggling with her class-loads. And one of her college grants had been de-funded which meant that she would have to work more evening and weekend hours _and_ move out of the dorm _and_ commute every day to Upperton.

Adjusting her employee name-tag she checked her hair and overall appearance, hoping the new manager would be able to adjust her schedule accordingly. She limped toward the curtained doorway leading out to the sales area and collided with Polly Ester as she swept into the stockroom.

Before she could open her mouth to apologize, the over-dressed, over-accessorized matron said: "How perfect! I've just saved you the embarrassment to having this meeting in public." And then she smiled. If Mlle. Ester had possessed two more rows of teeth she could have passed for a shark.

**RSVP**

Rufus was telling him something very important.

Either that or he was explaining why he had left, where he had been for so long, and why he was suddenly back now.

Either way, Ron was having trouble understanding him. Actually, he was having trouble following any coherent train of thought. The blue glow that surrounded him was flickering now, like a sputtering flame on the verge of dying.

"Really tired, Buddy," he slurred as he closed his eyes. "If you don't mind, I'll take a little nap, and then we'll catch up…"

The blue paled a little and small wisps of clouds began to drift through.

Above.

He was ten again and lying on his back, staring up at a balmy summer sky. School was still a couple of months off and each day of summer vacation seemed endless.

In the good way, that is.

Kim's website and the seemingly endless series of missions that would define his closing years of middle school and then all of high school were still in the future. His ten-year-old mind was blissfully ignorant of the chaos and danger that awaited him in the few short years to come.

The nineteen-year-old mind that retroactively shared his prepubescent body was not.

Future Ron was aware of the loneliness to come…

The missed social activities and opportunities that were sacrificed to the many evenings and weekends of world-saving and freak-fighting. The growing inability to connect to peers who were intimidated or jealous of Ron's extracurricular activities or otherwise unable to bridge the growing gap between his life experience and theirs. The unfair labels of slacker, underachiever, and doofus when anyone with less than a genius IQ would have had to endlessly repeat ninth grade while his classmates were heading off to college.

Nineteen-year-old Ron took a moment to savor the innocence of his ten-year-old self and the perfect stillness of this long-past summer afternoon. The love his younger self held for his best friend, Kim, who wasn't a girl, wasn't anything but his best friend. Who didn't laugh at him when he pretended his mother's kitchen was a mad scientist's laboratory and served up strange experiments that were increasingly tasty. The guys would have mocked him unmercifully even if they didn't get a glimpse of him in the apron his mother insisted that he wear when sifting flour and stirring batter. Kim didn't think him a geek or a nerd when he bargained for an adult library card and checked out a new stack of books each week—even his father had cautioned that he would "burn out" on reading if he kept up his current pace.

Despite his self-proclaimed philosophy, Older and Wiser Ron wondered if Younger and Innocent Ron would have been happier to have lived a life that was very normal. Perhaps boredom had its recommendations, after all. Certainly there was something to be said for living a long if less eventful life.

But that was something he would never know, now, he thought as he drifted up out of his former self. Ten-year-old Kim was approaching and revisiting that tender and uncomplicated bond was just too painful right now.

And he couldn't stay.

He had lived that life.

And the life that had come after.

And all of the life up to The End which was now.

Now he could let go.

Now he could just float up like a big, invisible balloon, rising into a perfect, blue summer sky. Rising until he was one with its infinite blueness…

He felt himself rising and the breeze washed over him as he traveled through cloud-like mists.

He opened his eyes once and looked up at the face of Adrena Lynn.

"Freaky," he whispered.

And floated away into nothingness.

**RSVP**

The three women stood in a triangular pattern, at equal distances from each other, for their conversation. Yet they faced outward and away from each other instead of inward.

"We have removed Ron Stoppable from the area of greatest hazard," the blonde stated.

"We have brought the cooling system back on line, preventing a containment breach that might endanger Ron Stoppable in the foreseeable future," the brunette added.

"However Ron Stoppable remains unconscious," the black woman observed, "and his vital signs indicate that his condition continues to deteriorate. Query: how may we best _serve_ Ron Stoppable now?"

"Conclusion: Ron Stoppable must be properly diagnosed," the brunette answered, "and receive the best medical treatment available in a timely manner."

"Calculating," the blonde chimed in. "Facilities, staff, distance, time—optimal convergence of all factors suggests the United States Naval Hospital in Yokosuka."

"Adequate transport must be acquired so that Ron Stoppable may be stabilized and arrive at this destination in a timely manner."

"One should remain to guard and protect Ron Stoppable while the other two maximize the search grid for said transport."

Random numbers were quickly generated and compared to organize a selection process. Moments later the blonde was left standing over the prone form of Ron Stoppable.

He stirred briefly and opened an eye, peering blearily up at the blonde automaton standing above him.

He closed his eye again, murmuring "Stilll freeeky…"

And drifted away.

**RSVP**

"Cooling systems are back on line," Dr. Porter announced from her position at the bank of monitors. "Heat and radiation levels are dropping"

"How long before they reach the safe zone?" Dr. Director asked, crowding her shoulder.

"At this rate? Twenty minutes. Maybe less."

"Good enough for me!" Shego announced, squeezing her hands into fists and emitting a few turquoise sparks. She ran out of the command post and headed toward the front gate.

Betty took a few steps in her wake before Vivian reminded her: "Twenty minutes."

The robotics expert got up and went over to a locker. Pulling out a hazmat radiation suit, she began pulling the coveralls up over her legs.

Dr. Director walked over to the locker and leaned her shoulder against it, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "I thought you said it would be safe to go in after twenty minutes?"

Dr. Porter pulled the zipper up the front to her collar. "That's right." She tucked the helmet under her left arm and picked up a Geiger counter with her right hand. "But I'm not waiting twenty minutes."

Betty watched her walk out the door with an open mouth. Then began to ransack the rest of the lockers while the male scientists watched with their own mouths open.

Finally Dr. Bortel spoke up. "Er, it's only eighteen minutes, now, Madam Director…"

"Oh shut up."

**RSVP**

Rufus was talking to him again but Ron just ignored the pulsating ball of light.

The voice persisted, calling him back from oblivion, back to the pain-filled Now.

_Leave me alone!_ he finally shouted_. It's too much! I don't want to think any more! I don't want to feel! Everything hurts! Everyone hurts! I just want it all to stop!_

_**Stoppable-san.**_

Even though it wasn't a voice the thought, itself, sounded just like Master Sensei. Ron looked up and there was the venerable old teacher, sitting in a lotus position and floating next to the flickering ball of energy.

_**I see you have reconnected with your animal guide, my son.**_

_What? That? I thought it was Rufus but he's not pink, at all._

Sensei chuckled. _**No, Stoppable-san. This Rufus is—and is **_**not**_**—the creature you kept in your pocket through high school. At least not exactly. Do you remember when you were very young? You had an invisible friend.**_

_An imaginary friend_, Ron corrected his mentor.

_**No, not imaginary. Just invisible to others…and to you, quite often. But he has always been near you, whispering in your dreams, nudging you at certain turning points. He is your animal totem, a spirit guide.**_

_Rufus is a spirit?_

_**It is a complex matter, my son. This would have been revealed to you after another year or two of study but you are in crisis and it seems best to clear up your confusion.**_

_I don't understand._

_**Believe me, my young friend; there is much that I do not yet perceive, as well.**_

_That sounds like one of those answers designed to get you out of having to give a real explanation._

Sensei smiled. _**So it does. But the best I can do for now is to say that you were a most unusual child—**_

_Something I've been hearing from Bonnie Rockwaller for as long as I can remember._

—_**in that you could actually see and hear your spirit totem and that you could actually understand its language. Few masters of the mystical arts are able to achieve such a direct communion.**_

_What good has that done me?_

_**A—what do you Westerners call it—pity party, Stoppable-san? **_**This **_**is a great gift. Even after the pressures of the "practical world" pushed your purer perceptions into the background, there was still a connection. So much so that, when you adopted a naked mole rat from the Smarty Mart pet department, you recognized some sort of divine spark, and you named your pet Rufus without consciously remembering that it was the name of your invisible childhood companion. That spirit guide was able to inhabit that small, animal form and invest its tiny brain with a higher consciousness. Have you not wondered, my student, how a naked mole rat could speak—albeit with a limited vocabulary? And how it could share your mystical monkey power in times of great need?**_

Ron was astonished. _Sorry, buddy. If I'd known, I would have treated you better._

The pulsating ball of energy shimmered and rippled with waves of colored light.

_**Rufus says that you couldn't have possibly treated him better under the circumstances. That he is proud to have been your pet and prouder still to be your totem and spirit guide. He asks if there is anything that he can do to ease your pain.**_

Ron didn't hesitate for a moment. _I want to forget!_

**RSVP**

Shego skidded to a stop just beyond the security gate that opened on the inner courtyard at the front entrance of the Genpatsu main building. One of the fembots stood in the middle of a grassy sward that formed a median between the access roads, in and out. Ron Stoppable lay on the ground at her feet, as still and silent as a corpse.

She felt an unaccustomed pain in her chest and started forward only to find her way immediately blocked by the robot that had been more than fifty feet away just seconds before.

_Damn, she's fast!_

"Sheila Gough," the artificial woman stated, "also known as Shego. Former hero turned former criminal. Pardoned of all past crimes and currently a secret operative for Global Justice. Why do you approach?"

"I'm here to rescue Ron Stoppable." She made to move around the robot blocking her way but it shifted with her so that it still blocked her way.

"Ron Stoppable i_s_ being rescued," the robotic roadblock answered. "Phase one is complete: Ron Stoppable has been removed from the danger zone. Ron Stoppable will now be transported to adequate medical facilities so that he may be properly diagnosed and treated to return him to optimal health."

"Then we're on the same page, here—" Shego dodged to the left. In the distance she heard an approaching siren.

The robot was already in front of her again. "You have a history of attacking Ron Stoppable and his sidekick and attempting to do him harm."

Shego's mouth popped open and she just stared at the blonde robot for a moment. _Jeez, this thing looks waaay too much like Adrena Lynn._ "Really? You're gonna go there with the whole Bebe history in your own hip pocket? Talk about the pot calling the ket—"

"You make reference to two previous generations of Bebe programming and design. This unit—I—am separate and unique from that history. I _serve_ Ron Stoppable. You remain the same as the being who attempted to harm Ron Stoppable on multiple occasions."

"I am not the same! I'm—my _programming_—has changed!"

"Do you _serve_ Ron Stoppable?"

"Serve?" Shego's face flushed red, a color it had not attained in many years. "I—I work with him. We serve together—but not each other."

"Then your loyalty is not _to_ him. Furthermore, the agency you serve may not have his best interests at heart. Therefore I cannot allow you access to him."

Dr. Porter arrived just in time to hear the last portion of this exchange. _Oh boy!_ she and Shego both thought. _Betty is not going to like that assessment of the GJ/Ron Stoppable mix! _She took a step back as Shego's fists clenched and teal colored sparks began to dribble from between her fingers.

"Outta my way, bimbot!" the formerly green gladiatrix roared, tucking her shoulder down and charging through her opponent.

Her opponent did not budge. Instead, the robot's arm shot out and sent Shego flying backwards. Vivian watched as she sailed more than more than thirty feet without touching the ground and smacked into the chain link fence.

It only took her a minute to get back on her feet but it was clear as she staggered around in circles that Shego would provide no further hindrance for the Bebes' current plans.

The growing sound of a siren suddenly died away as an ambulance came through the gate. It passed a drunken-looking Shego, and skidded to a stop next to the prostrate Ron. A black woman swung down from the driver's side and blurred over to stand next to the blonde.

"Dr. Vivian Porter. Robotics expert for the Middleton Space Center," the black woman observed.

"Colleague to Dr. James Timothy Possible, parental unit of Kimberly Ann Possible, friend and associate of Ronald Dean Stoppable," the blonde woman elaborated.

There was a whirring sound and something streaked through the gate, coalescing into a brunette woman who was suddenly standing next to the other two.

_Robots_, Dr. Porter reminded herself. Even knowing their origins, it was hard to not think of them as actual women, so lifelike were their appearances.

"Are you here to interfere with the rescue of Ron Stoppable?" the brunette asked.

"No. Of course not," Vivian said hurriedly. "I—uh—enhanced and activated you so that you could rescue Ron. I _want_ you to rescue Ron. Er, Stoppable. I'm here to help."

"Do you have medical training?" the blonde asked.

"Uh, some," Viv said, "but, more importantly, I have connections in high places and access to resources that most people don't. And, as a roboticist, I can assist you in adapting to the variables that your programming may require."

"We are transporting Ron Stoppable to the United States Naval Hospital in Yokosuka," the black woman told her. "How can you assist us in that task?"

Vivian smiled. "I have a number of government contracts plus some political pull. I can get you through the gate and onto the base without a firefight."

"Thank you," the black woman said. "We welcome your assistance. We will transport Ron Stoppable, now." The blonde and brunette were suddenly behind the ambulance, retrieving the gurney.

Dr. Porter unzipped her hazmat suit and stepped out of it, a little self conscious that she was going to be visiting a military base wearing a sweaty tee shirt and an abbreviated pair of Daisy Dukes. But it was either go as she was or be left behind. "One little favor," she asked as she pulled out her cell phone. "I need to retrieve a robot head that Ron had with him when he was in—"

The brunette held up Oliver's steel cranium that had been sitting on the ground behind Ron's too still form. "Rescue parameters protocol: leave no one behind."

"Spankin'!" Dr. Porter hit speed dial and followed the Bebes to the ambulance. "Hello Grampa? It's Vivy…"

**RSVP**

_**What do you mean, Stoppable-san?**_

_It just hurts too much, Sensei! First Kim. And then Yori. And all of the death and suffering and heartache all around us, here in Japan. I can't do it anymore! I can't take it any more!_

_**Ron-san, there are many in the world who have suffered far greater losses throughout their lives than you have suffered so far—**_

_Fine. Maybe spread out over a lifetime I could learn to live with it. But it's all too much, too soon, too fast. I just need to find a way to deal with it until I can figure out how to go from here._

He paused._ I'm afraid if I don't...I could...break...again... _He shuddered._ And if that happens, then HE could come back and take over...everything! And, this time, I wouldn't want to stop him. I want to forget. I NEED to forget! Or I might just break beyond repairing!_

_**You said that you want to forget. Just what are you asking?**_

Ron Stoppable pondered the question seriously but he was afraid of taking too much time and letting the moment and its potential opportunity slip away.

_I loved Kim and I loved Yori. Losing them both is more than I can bear. If I could just forget them for a little while…_

The pulsating ball flickered like a miniature thundercloud.

_**Rufus says that he will grant your request for one but not both.**_ Sensei turned to amorphous globe of energy. _**Is this wise?**_

_What? You're saying I can forget one of them for a while but not both?_

Sensei turned back to Ron and frowned. _**I do not think that this is a path you should take, Ron-san. But your spirit guide insists on honoring his offer. He says you must choose which memories are the most painful and he will suppress them until such time as you can choose to remember…or forget forever.**_

_How can I choose to remember something that I've forgotten?_

_**I do not pretend to understand the bond between you and your spirit guide, my son. I only know that he bids you choose, now, who you will honor and cherish in your heart and who will be cast out.**_

Ron was shocked at this way of articulating the gift of forgetfulness. But it seemed to bring him clarity, as well.

_I have loved KP ever since Pre-K in one form or another. But while I have known great joy through our friendship and our love, I have also known the pain of her disregard. It was always something that I could overlook or get past. And it seemed like I did once we were in love. But…but…and then…"_

He shook his head.

_**You have been told that you were tricked into thinking that a synthodrone was Possible-san. Does not the truth make a difference in your feelings, now?**_

_Yes...and no. Perhaps what was supposed to be a false illusion opened my eyes to the truths that made such a deception possible. __Yori never disrespected me. Yori healed me when I was broken. Yori put me before all others and bonded to me. We conceived a child together. She died trying to save others. Her last thoughts were for me. How could I not honor her and keep her memory alive in my heart?_

_**Then you would forget Kim Possible?**_

_It's not like it would be forever, right? Just a little while. I just gotta catch my breath and it feels like I can't breathe at all. Does that make sense? I would just like to forget the heartache and the pain that knowing her has brought me._

**THEN THAT IS WHAT I SHALL TAKE FROM YOU UNTIL IT IS TIME TO CHOOSE WHETHER YOU CAN EVER TAKE UP THAT BURDEN AGAIN**, said an inhuman voice. It was a voice that was not a voice and yet it held compassion and empathy even as it spoke its terrible sentence.

The light flashed and pulsed and grew brighter and brighter, burning through his mind and then his heart and then, finally, through the pain.

And Ron Stoppable fell into the dark waters of the River _Lethe_, forgetting that whatever one loves the most is what brings both joy and sorrow in its greatest measures.

The greater portion of his pain eased as he slept.

Because a part of Ron Stoppable was now dead.

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**ABOUT THE CHAPTER TITLE: "Danger, Will Stoppable!" Those of you old enough to remember "Lost in Space" and "The Robot" probably don't need an explanation on this. Those of you too young? Ahhh, too much trouble.**

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**Authors/Notes: **

**_We learned in "A Sitch in Time" that Ron had an imaginary friend when he was little and called him Rufus. When he acquired his naked mole rat years later, his pet was named for this "imaginary" friend._**

**_Okay, the pool is officially open, now: we have our first bid for Ron/Shego or Rongo. Any other guesses? _**

**_Anyone? _**

**_Anyone? _**

**_Bueller?_**

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**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 13**

_sh8ad8ow 5/12/11 . chapter 13_

good chapter.

**_Thanks, man. _**

**_For the rest of you shy, retiring types out there: see how easy it is to leave a word of encouragement? No one is arm-twisting you into leaving three to five paragraphs of pithy, insightful analysis—although I love those reviews. Just a few words of encouragement…unless…you don't want to encourage me…is that it? _****Is it?****_ You really _****don't****_ like my story? You want me to crash and burn and see me fail? (Breaks down into a blubbering mess). What? Oh you don't hate it but just can't find the strength to say "it doesn't suck that bad"? _**

**_Seriously, thanks to everyone who does leave a review and/or a comment. The_** **_rest of you should thank _****them****_, too. They're the reason that I keep going. R~13_**

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_CajunBear73 5/12/11 . chapter 13_

Quite the recap there, and more to come with the right previous 6 chapters to this one? Oh boy, Rereading Channel here I come! LOL!

_**And not for the last time (LOL right back atcha!)**_

But, fleshing out those chapters is really good in that now more substance is added to the high points you want to make. Bravo!

_**Thanks, we'll get to know more of the Stoppable Irregulars in the chapters to come…**_

Some major new player is using the resources of villains Team Possible faced before and seems to have succeeded where previous plots have failed. (And you have a snake in the grass with the good guys too? Oh boy.) Lives were torn apart and some are falling apart since that dreadful night. Hope all can be repaired.

_**Me, too!**_

Now as to where Kim is, I think a previous review may have made a stab at it, and you expanded that claim, I feel. But it is my hope that Kim can rejoin the outside world and regain what was so brutally torn from her.

_**It may be a long road back with some unexpected twists and turns…**_

As for Ron it seems that every woman on the planet wants him, and that wrestling scene in Japan seems to have really started the wheels turning on who you've decided may just snag that young man.

_**And wheels within wheels…**_

But for all those who would love to be by Ron's side, I just see nearly all of them as superficial to who and what he is and will be. But Shego is the closest one present who could stand honestly beside him, should Kim remain out of the picture.

_**Hint: Ron won't be the only one to evolve…**_

Two torn hearts, wandering separately in their own worlds. Neither will become whole until what Yori ordered her husband to do before rejoining her comes to pass. If for nothing else so they can enjoy the lives they have left in whatever they do. But it is my hope that Kim and Ron can heal, each other and themselves, and start anew romantically.

_**Anything is possible…I mean **__**anything**__**…which I will prove over and over again before this story is done (LOL).**_

Then kick the asses of those who did this to them before the honeymoon... LOL!

_**Oh, plenty of ass-kickery ahead. Good guys, bad guys, those not so easily categorized…lots of sore asses before we're done…**_

See you next posting.

CB73

**_Ah! At last, someone appreciates what a little rewriting can do!_**

**_But whether Kim will return or Ron will run off to join a convent and bunk with Justine Flanner will not be revealed too soon… R~13_**

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_vash3055 5/15/11 . chapter 13_

this is great continue

**_As long as enough readers ask me to continue, how can I say no? R~13_**

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_Uberscribbler 12/9/12 . chapter 13_

...ruddy, ding-dong...

**_Another excerpt of the multi-chapter review from _**_**Uberscribbler**_**_... R~13_**

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_Sentinel103 12/9/12 . chapter 13_

So Ron is speaking with his spirit guide (ya know this almost reminds me of another FF) who he had given the name of his imaginary friend also he is talking...Ok mind linking thingie...with Sensei. SO it looks like the Ron man may have survived his little experience.

Also it looks like ole Bon Bon's claws are out.

ST-103

**_When are Bon Bon's claws ever retracted? ;-) R~13_**

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_Some Dude 8/25/13 . chapter 13 _

Again, awesome chapter. And honestly, if I was in Ron's position, I'd probably choose to forget Kim too.

**_The problem is: he's making the choice on the assumption that this is a "short-term" deal. But will he "remember" the deal once it's done? R~13_**


	14. The Torch - or Doctor, Doctor

**Required Disclaimer:**

_When you wish upon a star,_

_Makes no difference who you are;_

_Disney owns the KP rights,_

_While this just wastes my sleepless nights…_

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen – The Torch—or Doctor, Doctor**

Major Pierce, M.D., F.A.C.S., S.U.S.N.F.S., was exhausted. In the days following the quake the US Government had authorized opening the U.S. Naval Hospital to Japan's civilian population for humanitarian relief. Most of the staff worked around the clock, catching naps when they could, seeing hundreds of patients a day while thousands more waited outside. The triage protocols were stringently adhered to: no line-jumping allowed.

Until last night.

Even without orders coming down from SECNAV with a dozen Congressional phone calls and telexes to boot, Dr. Pierce would have made an exception for the unconscious man who was delivered in a stolen ambulance just as he was preparing to climb into his bunk.

Recognizing the young man who had saved the planet from that alien invasion last Spring—and knowing that there were no empty beds to be found in the hospital—Dr. Pierce had given Ron Stoppable his own bed.

Although the four women who accompanied the injured hero had to make do with chairs or the floor, all looked relatively rested and alert this afternoon. _Which was more than he could say for himself._

He propped his elbows on his desk and cradled his face in his hands as he reread the test results. Then looked up at the impressive quartet lined up across the desk from him.

"First off," one of the two blondes said, "I'd like to thank you for your kindness in giving up your own bed and prioritizing Ron—er, Mr. Stoppable's treatment."

This was Pop-Pop Porter's granddaughter, he reminded himself. The frozen food king was, by most accounts, one of the five richest men in the world. He apparently had a lot of political clout, as well, judging from the red tape that had been slashed from the top down on behalf of this patient. But then, rich and powerful advocates were probably unnecessary when you've done what young Stoppable had done.

And saving the world certainly hadn't hurt him in the hottie department, either, Dr. Pierce thought wryly.

"And I appreciate your NEX extending me credit so that I could arrange for some appropriate attire," Porter's granddaughter continued.

Taking in the sweet curves barely concealed by the camouflage pants and the tan, strapped tee, Dr. Pierce decided that Stoppable could do a lot worse than hooking up with sizzling hot granddaughter of one of the richest men on the planet. If he played his cards right, the young man would never have to work another day in his life.

"How is Ron Stoppable?" the other blonde asked.

He didn't know anything about this one other than the fact that her name was Bebe and she looked a lot like that extreme sports reality star of a few years back—Adele or Abby or something like that. He mentally shrugged and answered: "I'm afraid I've got good news and bad, ladies."

"Please elaborate," the black woman interjected.

What was her name? Cece, he remembered now. If Cece was Cinderella, he decided, then Halle Berry and Beyonce would be the ugly stepsisters. Talk about chocolaty goodness…

"Well, the good news first," he announced. "Mr. Stoppable's vitals and blood work continue to show improvement. He seems healthy in most respects but the fact that he remains unconscious and unresponsive is one of two troubling factors…"

"What is the other factor?" the fourth woman—Dede was it?—inquired. The only logical explanation for the brunette was that God decided to create a younger version of Sophia Loren or Salma Hayak, couldn't decide which, and decided to split the difference.

In all of the best ways possible.

"Mr. Stoppable has, as you say, been exposed to serious—if not lethal—levels of radiation. What seems to be happening is medically and scientifically impossible and yet every test we've run confirms that his body is actually emitting—throwing off—measurable amounts of radioactivity. And those levels are dropping by the hour. It's as if his cells are being purged of whatever dosages he received."

Porter's granddaughter frowned. "I'm sorry but radiation doesn't work that way. The neutrons that passed through his bones and tissue would have caused cellular damage on their way through. It's not like his body could actually stop and store those wavelengths like some sort of organic battery. And even if he could, it would kill him!"

Dr. Pierce spread his hands. "I don't know what to tell you. The Geiger counter reads higher than normal levels of background radiation from his individual blood samples as well as his gross anatomy…"

Vivian blushed in spite of herself. She knew that the term "gross anatomy" referred to the medical study of the body at the _macro_scopic rather than the microscopic level: in other words, complete organs and organ systems. But she was reminded of a particular organ that she had checked in the middle of the night when she had found herself alone with...her patient.

And there had been nothing...objectionable...about it in the slightest!

Last night the Bebes—or B-bots, since Bebe was now the actual name for just one of them—had slipped into the darkened labs and were rerunning the tests on Ron's blood and tissue samples for an hour or so when she had climbed into Ron's bed.

Vivian had just wanted to lie down on something soft for awhile. But, lying next to him, she had grown curious about something that she had overheard.

Call it girl talk or gossip; it seemed an incongruous subject for a conversation between the Director of Global Justice and her emerald mercenary. At the time she supposed they were making it all up just to tweak that nit Du who was well within earshot—closer than her, for that matter so he had to have heard. Well, yes: remembering the expression on his face, she knew he had heard. But that seemed to make the claims all the more untrustworthy. A prank on a self-important little perv was one thing. Expecting such anatomical "irregularities" to be factual was quite another. Still, the opportunity to verify such wild claims was right there "at hand" as it were.

So she peeked.

Gross anatomy, indeed: "gross" being another word for "large." It made the others she had seen look like her grandfather's mini corn dogs!

_And that while it was still "unconscious" along with the rest of him!_

She wondered what it would look like when it was all woke up and fully…caffeinated.

"…still his tissue samples show cellular repair and that is a hopeful sign," Dr. Pierce elaborated, bringing the blonde roboticist back to the here and now. "Which brings us to the question of his comatose state."

"Do you suspect some kind of head trauma or perhaps brain swelling from the radiation exposure?" she asked, trying to get her head back into business mode.

Dr. Pierce was impressed: the Porter girl was obviously no shallow, spoiled heiress. "It's impossible to tell by most diagnostic measures," he answered. "Normally we would take a look at what's going on inside but I'm not about to shoot X-rays through a body that's already seen too much irradiation. And his condition also rules out CTs and MRIs for now."

"Then what are our options?" Ms. Porter asked. The other three women were inhumanly still, yet they seemed to be listening intently.

"A really good brain surgeon might open him up and take a look inside. We don't have anyone of that caliber here and you'd probably have to look stateside for someone with the qualifications—"

The Porter girl held up her hand. "I know just the one. Is Mr. Stoppable stable enough to fly?"

The Navy surgeon shrugged helplessly. "A smooth ride in pressurized cabin with no turbulence—I don't see why not. I can provide you with IVs and portable monitors but there is no government transport that can be spared for the next two weeks without an act of Congress." Although he was willing to bet that Congress wouldn't balk at such arrangements for a national—no—_international_ hero.

The blonde pulled out her cell phone and hit speed dial once more. "No need," she said, "we'll be flying private." She put the phone to her ear. "Grampa? Vivy again…"

**RSVP**

Dr. Anne Possible was one very frustrated woman.

Her daughter was not only missing—gone now for the better part of a year—but she had _yet_ to get word to her parents that she was alive and well. Which Anne still believed with a certainty that had to border on madness and denial for most other people. But it irritated her that Kim could be so thoughtless and rude: she thought she had raised her daughter better than that!

The twins had grown more distracted and distant of late and her husband seemed to be avoiding her as much as possible, working late at the Middleton Space Center Propulsion Lab almost every night now.

Anne had driven out there on a couple of occasions to see if he really was there (he was) and if he was alone (two for two, so far). But she felt the need to be vigilant. Lately there had been a feeling of "wrongness" about the house. She couldn't put her finger on it but there were times that she felt as if there was an unseen presence, hovering, just out of view.

And if that unseen presence had anything to do with a single, blonde, twenty-something robotics scientist…well brain surgeons were trained in the use of a scalpel on other parts of the body, as well!

Depressed at the thought of spending another Saturday at home in an empty house, she drove over to the Global Justice training facilities to watch her niece put the GJ trainers through their paces.

"Aunt Anne!" Joss yelled, running across the parking lot as Mrs. Dr. Possible got out of her car.

"Joss!" the older redhead exclaimed as her niece nearly knocked her off her feet with a country-style hug. "I thought I'd come watch you work out today."

"Really? That's great! You kin give me pointers!"

"Oh, I don't know about that," Anne said as she walked the young woman toward the side entrance. "You've been studying Kim's moves for years, now. Ron's, too, I hear."

"Yeah. But Ah've never gone on an actual mission like you have!"

"Oh, that. It wasn't a mission, exactly. Kim and I were just spending Mother's Day together and we...er...had to catch a train…"

"Well, Ah know that director woman has been talkin' 'bout gittin' you in here and gittin' you outa yer briefs!"

Anne Possible laughed as they entered the building and were waved through the security checkpoint. "I think you mean she wants to _debrief_ me."

Joss still looked puzzled.

"It means interview me about what it was like to work with Kim out in the field."

"Ohhhhh." The young woman looked relieved. "Walll, I didn't know what ta think. She hangs around with that Shego an awful lot and ya start hearin' some interestin' rumors, ya know?"

"I'll bet you do." They paused at the door to the women's locker room. "Is there a good place to sit and watch, like a visitor's gallery? Or should I just pass through to the gym and watch from the bleachers?"

Joss shook her head. "Hey, why don't you join us? The doc will expect you to when she gits back and little warm up could be fun. 'Sides, Monique called an' said she couldn't come today an' I need someone to watch my back!"

Anne shook her head as her niece practically dragged her into the changing area. "I don't think that's such a good idea, Hun. I'm old, I'm out of shape…and I didn't bring anything to change into."

They stopped in front of a locker labeled: _Dr. Anne Possible_.

"Not a problem," Joss assured her. "GJ provides everything you need. Jes' push your thumb against that little pad there: it's biological."

"Biometrical," Anne corrected bemusedly, pressing her thumb where Joss indicated. There was a click and the door swung gently outward, causing Anne to wonder how Global Justice was able to pre-program the scanner for her thumbprint.

Inside was a towel, some toiletries, and a set of mission clothes. "I don't see any sweats."

"That's because GJ wants ta duplicate the parameters of Kim's missions—right down to the clothes she wears when she's doin' all that gymnastic stuff. C'mon, let's git changed."

The brain surgeon opened her mouth to renew her protests and then thought _What the hell. A little physical activity might take the edge off. Better than taking a sleeping pill against another long, lonely night_. She began unbuttoning her blouse_._

**RSVP**

Major Pierce studied the badge and the I.D. in the folded leather case and then handed it back across his desk to the woman in the dark blue uniform. "I'm sure you are who you say you are Ms. Director—"

"Doctor," she interrupted, fixing him with her single brown eye.

"Yes?"

"It's _Doctor_ Director, Major," she said.

_Oho,_ Pierce thought, _I can see that this isn't going to go well._

"My apologies," he said smoothly. "The long days and excessive burdens of dealing with so many injured have caused all of us to become a little more casual in our interactions. No disrespect was intended, Doctor."

"And none taken, Major—"

"Doctor." Pierce interrupted, trying to not smile.

The brunette sitting next to head of Global Justice was unsuccessful in suppressing her own grin though she covered her mouth with her hand before the woman with the eye patch could turn and catch her at it.

"Doctor…" Betty amended.

"Doctor…" Pierce returned with a smile and a nod. He glanced over at the green-eyed brunette.

"I only have a Masters degree," she responded. "But I've been known to _play doctor_ when the mood is right…"

"Sheila!" the woman in uniform hissed out of the side of her mouth. "I'm sorry Dr. Pierce but we're looking for a young man who may have been brought here for medical treatment. If I show you a picture—"

He cut her off, saying: "Are you looking for Ronald Stoppable?"

A flicker of emotions passed across both faces: surprise, hope, concern, and finally, almost as an afterthought, impassive professionalism.

"Yes. Is he all right? What is his condition?"

"I'm sorry, ladies. I cannot discuss his case with you. Doctor-patient privilege, you know."

The woman in blue went ramrod stiff in her chair and fixed him with that one-eyed stare again. "You realize that as the director of Global Justice I can probably compel you to answer my questions."

"Yes ma'am; that may be true." Pierce smiled and leaned back in his chair. "But you would have to go through Congress and/or the Secretary of the Navy before that could happen because that's who I've had to answer to on this case." He cocked an eyebrow. "So far."

No, the woman with the eye patch was not happy with that answer and the brunette was clenching her fists in frustration. Pierce caught a whiff of ozone and for a moment thought he saw a wisp of smoke rising from one of her hands.

"Please, Dr. Pierce; we're his friends. Is there anything that you can tell us?"

The major looked at a somewhat chastened Dr. Director. "Well, I don't think I'm breaking any confidentiality laws in telling you that he left here an hour ago. He was en route to the Haneda airport about thirty-two kilometers away so he's probably there and already boarded.

"Boarded?" the brunette asked, rising from her chair. "Do you know the airline or the flight number?"

"He's being flown back to the states on a private transport. One of Pop-Pop Porter's private jets. His granddaughter made the arrangements."

"Holy crap, Betts!" the brunette exclaimed. "You never told me that Dr. Vivian Francis Porter was the granddaughter of one of the richest men in the world!"

"I—uh—" the director floundered, "—I didn't realize, myself. She wasn't part of our initial operation so I never ran a background check."

"_Doctor_ Vivian Porter?" Pierce mused while the two women hurriedly exited his office. _Well, this just gets better and better..._

**RSVP**

Dr. Anne Possible walked out into the Global Justice training room feeling a bit silly and self-conscious. She was used to her predictable dress and lab coat ensemble, a sensible and comfortable fashion choice for a busy brain surgeon and the mother of three children. The black, ribbed pullover top and the khaki cargo pants were a bit snug, reminding her of those extra ten pounds she had been meaning to lose these past—two—three—five—years?

Brain loaf aside, it wasn't like she didn't watch her diet. And twice weekly Pilates kept her limber and feeling closer to twenty-seven than her actual thirty-seven years of age. Only a number, she reminded herself as she watched Joss do a series of cartwheels across the mats.

Five bulky men wearing grey sweats with "GJ" stenciled across their tops were spread out around the room. One straddled a padded "horse," another sat on a balance beam, two were lifting weights, and the last was twirling a pair of nunchucks through a series of maneuvers that would likely leave his arms, sides, and back blooming purple over the next couple of days.

"Well, well, well," the man on the horse called out as he dismounted, "looks like its 'Take Your Mommy to School' Day."

"That's good," said one of the weight lifters, "because we'll be happy to see that they both get 'schooled'."

"This is my Aunt Anne," Joss told them. "She's just here to watch my back."

"Sure," said a third, "and while she's watching your back, we'll be watching her front."

Anne glanced down and colored a little. There wasn't a sports bra in the locker and she had decided to leave her "underwire" hanging with the rest of her street clothes. Her figure was still trim enough that she didn't sag but now that they were unfettered, her breasts were a little more "lively" as she walked behind her niece. The tightness of her knit top was both a blessing and a curse under these circumstances.

"I would have expected a more gentlemanly demeanor from Global Justice agents," the elder Possible said.

"We're supposed to duplicate field conditions for the _Possibilities Project_," Nunchucks answered. "You won't be fighting gentlemen in the field."

"I don't plan on fighting anyone in the field," Mrs. Dr. P. answered. "I'm just helping out today."

The men formed a loose circle around the two women.

"Wait a minute," Anne protested, "we should get ten or fifteen minutes to warm up, first."

"No wait-a-minutes in the field," another man said.

"No warm-ups in the field," added a third.

Two of them rushed her. Three went for Joss.

Anne was able to see Joss execute a three-step flip and land on the shoulders of her middle attacker before the two covering her knocked her down and fell on top of her.

The wind was knocked out of her and the weight of two men on top of her was uncomfortable. But it was the inappropriate touching, the hands that started out in one place and roamed about unnecessarily that lit her pilot light. She was able to leverage an elbow and there was a sudden, high-pitched scream.

Both men rolled off of her and, as she sprang back up she could see one of the weightlifters was holding his face as blood dripped down his chin. "By dose! She broke by fuckin' dose!" he panted.

"Just be happy I broke the soft cartilage in your nose," Anne growled back. "The next time you try some unnecessary groping, I'll aim a little higher and shatter your ethmoid bone. That's the area between your nasal cavity and the floor of your cranium and I could just as easily drive those fragments through your dura and into your brain."

"What the hell's wrong with you, lady? This is just a friendly sparring match!"

Anne showed her teeth in a feral grin and shook her crimson hair out of her eyes. "I thought there were no friendly sparring matches in the field."

"If that's the way you want it, lady," Nunchucks growled. "Eddie?"

"I'm headed for the infirmary," he whined from behind his hands, and hurried from the gym, dripping blood.

The four men—well, three as the one that Joss had landed on was still picking himself up off the ground—circled to rush the two women who now stood with their backs to each other.

Anne's mind was racing. Funny how fight-or-flight situations tended to unlock reserves of adrenaline and long-forgotten defense mechanisms. The question was would it also unlock long buried muscle memory as well?

Back in her college days, Anne had book-ended her first pregnancy with two stints on the varsity cheerleading squad as well as the Upperton gymnastics team. A coach for the U.S. Olympics Team had desperately tried to recruit her but the responsibilities of a sophomore marriage, raising a baby and meeting her scholarship requirements for medical school had finally sidetracked her from being the "woman who could do _everything_."

Pilates and racquetball were not the same as extreme gymnastics and radical cheer routines but she was fit and limber and had absorbed a number of her daughter's signature moves as well as retaining subconscious muscle memories of her younger days. Back then she was known throughout the Upperton campus as "The Torch" for her fiery routines and flame colored hair.

And now three poorly educated GJ trainers were learning that you don't grab the wrong end of a torch without getting burned.

A leg-sweep took down one while Joss flipped up and wrapped her legs around a second attacker's neck and twisted him down to the mat before planting a foot in his face in scrambling clear. Anne ran toward the third man and slid feet-first between his legs. As he passed over her, she jabbed her hand upward, punching a nerve juncture at the nadir of the pelvic structure. Even though she was a brain surgeon, she had made a thorough study of all aspects of human anatomy.

As Joss's first victim climbed shakily to his feet, Anne's last target was out of the game completely, curled up on the mat and cupping his genitals as if they might fall off at any minute. Now there were three.

Or two-and-a-half as Joss's second victim was a little slow to get back up.

"Yee-haw! Ain't this fun, Auntie Anne?" Joss hollered. "That Monique is just too much of a girly-girl!"

"That's it, bitch!" Nunchucks snarled as he picked up his—well—nunchucks.

"You didn't say anything about weapons," Anne exclaimed as the other moved over to the weight rack and pulled out a hand-weight bar without the end weights locked on.

"Yeah, I did. Like in the field. Remember, you stupid—?"

Anne's hand had dipped into her pocket and emerged before he had finished his second sentence. He never finished his third because a flash of green light slashed across his waist and suddenly his sweatpants were down around his ankles. His feet got fouled on his next step and he went down, face-first, into the mat.

The other man dropped the weight bar as Anne pointed the device in her hand at him. "Wha-what is that?" He raised his hands in surrender.

"Laser scalpel. And I _have_ used it _in the field_ before."

The only man left was not fully erect, yet, but he used it to his advantage, coming in low and under Anne Possible's guard. She grabbed his shoulder as he clutched at her waist and she pressed the nerve nexus near his collarbone. He sagged to the ground and was out like a light but not before tearing the lower half of her top away and exposing her stomach.

"Gosh, Auntie Anne! Now you look jes' like me and Kim!"

_Three kids, no stretch marks, and maybe a little more curved than it was ten years ago,_ she thought, but still tight. _I can see why Kim favors this style: it keeps you from overheating in the prolonged battles._

"So where did you learn how to do that last move?" Joss asked her as they walked in triumph from the training room back to the locker room.

"Leonard Nimoy taught me how to do it back when I was dating your uncle."

"Oh, you mean Mr. Spock."

Anne smiled at the memory. "No, Joss; I mean Leonard Nimoy…"

**RSVP**

Dr. Pierce was headed for his bunk. He'd been up for almost forty-eight hours and, now that Ronald Stoppable was on his way back to the states, he planned on spending some serious, uninterrupted rack-time. Three to four hours at least!

_Unless, of course, there were any more _doctors_ in the wings, waiting to put in an appearance_, he thought with a wry grin.

Tired as he was, he took a short detour to look in on a patient who had been brought in just a few days before.

Comatose and unresponsive, the young Japanese woman had been found in a deadfall of trees and debris that the tsunami had jammed into a tunnel on its way back out to sea.

What was left of the black material that was once her clothing, had been shredded and no identification could be found on her to offer a name or clue as to where she came from or where she belonged.

She belonged to _someone_, Pierce mused as he checked her chart once more. She was pregnant. And if you looked past the patchwork of bruises, cuts, and contusions, she was also very pretty.

He peeled back each of her eyelids in turn and checked her pupils to see if they were reactive, yet.

They weren't.

But he was struck, once again, by how beautiful they were. It wasn't just how unique it was to see blue eyes in an Asian woman…

…they seemed to softly glow as if lit by an inner light.

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**ABOUT THE CHAPTER TITLE: "The Torch or Doctor, Doctor"—two titles for the price of one. I liked "The Torch" since it was Anne's nickname and very descriptive (my creation, not canon) but the whole Doctor, Doctor exchange—no relation to the song _or_ the TV show—was too choice to ignore.**

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**Author's/Notes: **

**_Now this is interesting. It would appear that some of my readers come from other fanfiction categories and aren't necessarily invested to any degree in the KP-verse. Which might explain the dearth of reviews. That or maybe the story is suckier than I thought… _**

**_This new scene, at the end of the chapter, came about as a result of reader feedback. When I wrote the tsunami chapter, Yori did actually die. That was it. That was the plan. But…I kept getting messages, PMs, even reviews, doubting, arguing, hoping that Yori had survived somehow. Yes, even though the RSVP Saga is mostly plotted and planned out, readers do exert an effect on the story. Though I make no promises as to how anything will eventually turn out._**

**_(5/30/14) Although I must add that things would have turned out much simpler if I had stuck to my guns and make the tsunami the final chapter of the Ron/Yori saga…you pesky readers keep pushing a different agenda._**

**_Props to _****Old Soldier****_ for pointing out that the hospital's proper designation is Middleton Medical Center. The chapter has been updated to reflect that._**

**_And, yeah, I've always questioned whether it's coincidental that Pop-Pop and Dr. V share the same last name._**

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**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 14**

_Pavelius 5/23/11 . chapter 14_

Hehe... nice chapter...

So the "doctors" are on the move at all fronts... looks like Shego is underrated at this front...

_**Eh, not so much underrated as sitting back and letting someone else be the most annoying person in the room while she enjoys the show. **_

As for the lack of reviews... most readers dont make the effort of reviewing the stories (i was this way too for almost one year before i registered myself.. lurking through the site), so don't worry... your story doesn't suck... it is quite good...

Pavel

**_Thanks, man. R~13_**

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_Sentinel103 5/23/11 . chapter 14_

So despite massive being exposed to massive radiation the Ronster has survived for now and is on the way home. What's with GJ goons (ahem Agents) adding their own little game to sparring. Did Kim go through this too, does Betty allow this behavior? If so that could turn good gals bad.

**_Yeah, I doubt Kim ever suffered these fools. Her fighting skills were already well documented before she hooked up with Global Justice and any gym sessions were probably monitored by Betty. Unknown newbies might seem easier pickings to these louts and…while the cat's away, the mice will play… Of course, that's the problem: they're the mice and they just don't know it. And there are two cats in the room this time._**

So Viv is old man Porter's kid? Wow Brains, MONEY and looks.

_**Yup. And I don't think she's going to go away soon so the other gals better step up their game**_.

Ya know I had a guy in one of my classes who thought that he could do that to...the head instructor found a couple of new body shaped dents in the walls the next morning.

_**They better not try that with Shego or there could be body bag shapes in their future!**_

I know you have a long road to go here.

Larry (Sentinel 103)

**_So true: so gas up, take advantage of any rest stops as they come along, and keep your seat belts buckled at all times! R~13_**

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_sh8ad8ow 5/23/11 . chapter 14_

good chapter.

**_Thank you! R~13_**

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_CajunBear73 5/23/11 . chapter 14_

Pretty grim about Ron and what he asked for and what he received earlier. Hope he can retain what was ripped from him and he can rebuild with her...

_**Time will tell…and this little wish is going to have repercussions for some time to come.**_

But now the scene at the Navy Hospital was interesting. A little tag took place before all learned where Ron was heading. And who may possibly check in on him.

_**So many doctors, so little coverage...**_

Now I think James has much more to 'splain to Anne if he has been receiving those 'doctored' notes Kim sent. Fukushima is playing his game and he's going to be burned worse than he thought he was going to inflict on his targets.

Bless the Tweebs and their surveillance plans. Maybe someone can get a handle on some of the dark cloud Anne feels is hovering around her home. But I wonder what Kim had been sending and what Fukushima has been giving the Possibles.

_**I think I can safely say that the sitch with James, Anne, the Tweebs, and Fukushima is not going to play out according to standard formula…**_

Quite the batch of women latching onto Ron up to now and Viv's gotten the down-lo on a tidbit of gossip...

_**Well, you know the thing about gossip: the "tale" grows with the telling… ;-)**_

So Anne's got quite the past as someone who could have overshadowed her daughter? Looks like you've opened a door for a certain brain surgeon to pick up a new hobby.

CB73

**_Oh, yes…! R~13_**

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_Uberscribbler 12/9/12 . chapter 14_

...heck...

**Uberscribbler's ****_still in partial review excerpt mode here, I see. R~13_**

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_Some Dude 8/25/13 . chapter 14 _

0_0 you're a dick.

HOW COULD YOU JUST END THIS CHAPTER LIKE THAT!?

**_(8/26/13) Well, look at it this way: at least you can go right to the next chapter instead of waiting several days to a couple of weeks to find out what happened like the first readers had to do. In fact, you can buzz right through the next 30-odd chapters of Part I and another 30-odd chapters of Part II before you have to slow down and wait. Which is a good thing because I'll be "a dick" a couple a dozen times more before then. _**

**_;-) R~13_**

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_BartWLewis chapter 14 . Jun 25_

Awesome to know that you are redoing this story; will you redo the sequel?

_**I'm running everything through the editor as I re-read the whole RSVP Saga. That means some minor edits here and there, as I start out. A few extra sentences for clarification as needed. Then, as the story picks up speed, some new scenes-some minor, some possibly a bit more major. Given the existing structure and reader feedback/reviews, it's pretty difficult to change the overall story in a way that significantly alter its course and narrative, but there should be a few more surprises and even a couple of changes if I can get the wheel to turn a little...**_

Yori is alive, Ron left the hospital, and multiple chicks want him...sounds about right.

_**And yet so wrong...**_

_**;-) R~13**_

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_**G. Login chapter 14 . 7/13/14**_

she lives :) I am guessing it will be a while before he finds out that she is alive and by then he may be with someone else. That will be bad. He is going to be happy she is alive but then feel like crap because being Jewish he knows the law, Thou shall not commit adultery. He will feel he has been unfaithful to his wife.

_**Oh, if it was only this easy... R~13**_


	15. The Message is the Medium

**Required Disclaimer:** _The Possible Posse are all members of the Disney Tribe. All aspects of this story are for the purpose of free entertainment and the author receives no remuneration whatsoever. He will, however, accept monetary bribes to go away._

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**Chapter Fifteen – The Message is the Medium**

She almost skipped the showers but finally decided a quick rinse would help her freshen up before changing back into her street clothes.

Once she was under the spray of hot water she relaxed and let the heat soak into her muscles. It was interesting that a locker room shower seemed such a luxury but with an adult male and three teenagers in the house ("Two now," whispered that awful voice in her head) she was rarely able to indulge herself with a long, hot soak. Thank God for her Pilates workouts or she would feel like an arthritic 70 year-old tomorrow. As it was, she would still be a little sore. Maybe she should think about signing up for some martial arts classes over at the community center. That way, if they ever found out who sent that synthodrone against Kimmie, she could kick its artificial ass and then go all medieval on the people who made it and programmed it. Only then she would have her best chance at pulling her family back together.

Her reverie was interrupted by Joss who had moved across the shower area to a showerhead next to hers. "Aunt Anne?"

"Yes, Joss?"

She was staring at Anne's torso with frank curiosity. "How long before Ah git breasts like yours?"

Anne was reminded that her brother-in-law was a widower and that, as great a father as Slim Possible seemed to be, a growing girl needed an older woman—a mother surrogate—to talk to.

"Oh, honey, you don't want a body like mine…"

"What's wrong with it?"

A list of flaws—mostly exaggerated or imaginary—popped into the older woman's mind but she brushed those thoughts away. "Nothing. Nothing's wrong with it. Just like there's nothing wrong with your body. That's the thing: we're all supposed to look different. If we all looked the same, well, that would be…"

"Boring!" Joss exclaimed.

Anne laughed. "Precisely! Boring! You don't want breasts like mine, you want breasts like yours."

"But…" she looked down and wiped the soap aside, "they're so little, still."

"Oh, Jocelyn, don't worry. You're farther along than Kimmie was at your age. Don't tell her I said this but I think yours will be bigger when you finally catch up."

"Really?"

"Trust me, I'm a doctor."

They were silent for a few minutes then Anne said: "Joss, honey, has anyone ever talked to you about…sex?"

Joss snorted. "Ah live on a ranch, Aunt Anne! Ah know all about the birds and the bees. Not to mention the horses and the dogs and the cats and the—"

"Right, I get you. But what about boys?"

"Walll, that's the thing. Boys seem to set great store by them…"

"Them?" Anne asked.

"Breasts. Kim once told me that that's all most boys seem to think about."

"Some boys," Anne corrected, "not all boys. But Joss, you don't want a boy who's only interested in you for your body."

"Ah know that! But it helps to git noticed so they'll hang around long enough to find out 'bout your personality."

"Joss, I'm _sure_ that all the boys you meet _notice_ your personality."

"Yeah? Wall a gal's gotta think about the competition. 'Specially if he's not around much and other girls are tryin' to git his attention."

"So, you've got a specific boy in mind?"

The young woman suddenly grew shy and stared at the tiled floor. "Yes, ma'am…"

"Well, I hope he's special, Joss, because you deserve the best!"

"Yes, ma'am; he's very special!"

Anne couldn't help but smile. She missed these mother-daughter talks with Kim. The boys were much less inclined to share their thoughts with their mother, especially when it came to the topic of the opposite sex. "Tell me about him?"

Joss blushed. "He's very brave and loyal! The bravest and most loyal guy in the whole world!"

"I see."

"And he's strong! Not like a bodybuilder, muscley strong—jes' does whatever it takes fer as long as it takes to do what has to be done. Jes' like he's brave. "Cuz sometimes he is afraid but he faces his fears and does what has to be done, anyways."

"Oh my, Joss, he sounds like quite the catch! I hope you'll follow his example and go for it."

"Yeah…wall…" the young woman scuffed her foot sideways along the floor sending a small wave of water toward the drain. "There's this girl he likes…"

"And he's dating her?"

"No ma'am. I mean, they were…but they kinda broke up…"

"Then you should take your shot, Joss. Let him know that you're interested."

"Walll, I think he still likes her. And I bet that she likes him."

Anne shook her head. "Doesn't matter. Whether they've called it quits or are just on hiatus, if they're not together—and I'm not talking physically, you understand—then you're within your rights to expand his horizons. Do you understand?

"Yes ma'am. Your sayin' all's fair in love and war, even if that other gal was your best friend…"

Anne nodded hesitantly, remembering how she maneuvered her own husband out of circulation back at Upperton University.

"…or a family member…"

Anne's focus snapped back. "Hmmm?"

"…like Kim."

"Kim? What?" She peered down at her niece who still wouldn't meet her gaze. "Are you talking about Ronald? Ron Stoppable?"

Joss burst into tears and hugged her aunt. "Ah'm sorry! But if Kim don't want him no more—"

**RSVP**

She stared at her breasts in the mirror and wondered what it was about a couple of handfuls of extraneous body fat that drove so many men gaga.

They didn't even have to be real, for godsakes! The right bra, a little padding: push 'em up, squeeze 'em together. The right décolleté to frame a fleshy piggybank.

Or some women went the implant route. Silicon. Saline. Silly putty.

Of course, breasts weren't everything. Look at that goody-two-shoes Kim Possible and her HO Scale traffic cones. Underdeveloped, ginger, and yet her posters adorned millions of teenaged boys (and girls) bedrooms and—if the rumors were to be believed—more than a few password-protected photo folders in the computers of mature and even middle-aged men.

Probably something to do with that fresh-faced, schoolgirl vibe mixed with I-can-do-anything extreme gymnastics. Flashing her belly a lot didn't hurt, either. Especially if it drew attention away from her shortcomings a little further "north."

She frowned and shook her head. Possible's breasts were irrelevant. The question for her was what did her target prefer?

Every time she met with him she had made hers look a little bit bigger. It was a subtle increase—maybe too subtle—but she didn't want it to look like she was trying anything. In that, she appeared to be disappointingly successful. It was hard to tell since Mastermind wore a hooded mask but there had been no indications, so far, that any of her attempts to catch his eye or elicit his interest were paying off in any way.

She checked her lips in the mirror. Full, pouty, kissable.

Her teeth were perfect. White. Even.

Her hair. Long, thick, blonde. And she had tried lightening it and darkening it over the months with no discernable response.

Were her eyes not blue enough?

What about her nose? Statistically, it was the optimal size with a delicate little upturn that she had considered "correcting." On the other hand, some men preferred women with larger noses—the phrase "strong" seemed to most often be substituted when references to size were involved.

The problem with "perfection" on the beauty scale was that so many different people seemed to like or be turned on by different things. How could she ever hope to get it right without more information?

For that matter, how was she to know whether the man who held her precious Debutante hostage was even interested in girls?

Maybe he swung the other way.

Maybe he liked his blonde hair short, she thought, as her long, golden tresses seemed to withdraw back into her head.

Maybe he liked his chests firm and muscular rather than soft and bosomy, she considered, as her breasts flattened out and began to sprout a little chest hair.

A few more adjustments followed as her nanomorphing tweaked her appearance to appeal to her own tastes in men.

She was suddenly shocked to see the image of one of her foes gazing back at her with her own blue eyes.

Holy crap! Camille Leon thought as implications of her shape-shifting caught up with her.

Am I attracted to Ron Stoppable?

**RSVP**

Shego sat on a wooden box thinking about the likelihood of splinters if they hit turbulence. "I've flown hovercraft faster than this crate. Even without a head start, they'll be back in the Midwest hours before we reach the West Coast.

Betty Director spread her hands. "This is the best I could do on short notice. We could have gone back, picked up Agents Du and Kyoko, and waited another day or more for more comfortable accommodations. Is that what you would have preferred?"

Shego muttered something under her breath.

"What was that?"

"I said…no…" she grumbled.

Several chickens squawked in a coop to her left. "Aw, shut up!" she snarled, waving her hand at them. There was a flash and the smell of singed feathers filled the cargo hold as the frightened birds pressed back against the far side of their cage.

"Looks like you're getting your comet powers back."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Shego asked, looking worried.

"What do you mean?"

Shego figured that Betty wouldn't understand her long-buried desire to be "normal." But that wasn't her greater concern for the moment. "If Ron took my powers for himself…why are they finding their way back now?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if Ron is losing them?"

"_Is_ that a bad thing?"

_Boy, for the head of a global intelligence agency you can be one dumb broad at times,_ Shego thought.

"It _is_ if he's losing them because he's dying!"

**RSVP**

Anne dried off and dressed by her locker in a bit of a daze. She couldn't very well take back the advice she had just given her niece. Oh, she'd raised the age difference issue but Joss had pointed out that she'd turned fifteen last summer and so she was just two-and-a-half years away from being legally eligible for Ron's attentions.

There was no point in explaining the vast gulf separating most eighteen and twenty-two year-olds. She could only hope someone closer to Jocelyn's age would distract her before too much longer.

But was she really thinking of her niece, so much? Or her own daughter?

She had watched them grow up together and often thought that Kim never quite appreciated what a special friend she had in Ronald. Joss was too right that he was brave enough to face his fears—and even scarier things that would have sent grown men running—just to stand at her daughter's side or have her back or even save her life. There was no one more loyal, more trustworthy, and more suited to be the companion of a globe-trotting adventuress.

Kim, though not shallow, was still vulnerable to the hormonal surges of adolescence and could be distracted by the occasional hottie. She could also be unempathetic in her constant drive toward perfection and intolerant of the human weaknesses that she, herself, had little experience with.

Anne had watched Ron's reactions when he was forgotten, ignored, sometimes even disrespected—and it grieved her for she thought the young man deserved better regard. When Kimmie had finally realized what a treasure she had, Anne was relieved that Ron could turn those unrequited feelings into requited ones—even though he had risked more than one trip through a black hole their senior year. And she was sure that her daughter would not suffer the heartache and lost opportunities that came from making the wrong decisions in love, especially when it came to making a lifelong commitment.

And then came that terrible night in the cabin when Kim was assaulted; her subsequent disappearance, thinking the man she had given her heart to was capable of such monstrous things.

And Ron—what cruelties were visited upon him that same afternoon, just before he disappeared, as well?

_Oh, Kimmie_, she thought, _there are women out there more mature and more competitive and more desperate than Joss, who will know what a gem Ronald is. Who have had enough experience with lesser men that they would snatch him up and never let him go! How much heartache will he endure before succumbing to the attentions of someone else? Someone who will be there for him while you continue to hide? What if it's already too late?_

_Where are you?_

_Why haven't you contacted us?_

**RSVP**

_**Dear Daddy**_**,** the letter read…

_**Please don't let Mom know that I'm writing to you, again. I'm sorry that I can't be with you for awhile but I just can't come back and face her, yet. I am still so angry when I think of how she has betrayed you! Please, please see a doctor and get yourself tested! And if, for some reason, you can still bear to sleep with her, I hope you will use protection!**_

_**My job with the C.I.A. is going well for me. I can't give you any details because my missions are top secret and deep, deep cover. I shouldn't even tell you that I'm now an operative out at Langley—you must never reveal this to anyone; not Mom or the twins or Global Justice. My cover could be compromised and it could be fatal.**_

_**I received your last message via letter-drop and I understand your questions and your doubts but I can't make contact more than once every month or so. But, since you seem to need more proof, I was able to take these pictures to back up my "stories" as you've called them. I'm sorry but I can never return home while…**__**that woman**__**…is in our house. I hope you can understand this.**_

_**Love,**_

_**Your Kimmie-cub**_

Fukushima picked up the nine-by-twelve envelope and slid the letter inside. Then he examined the eight photos that showed a nude Dr. Anne Possible _in flagrante delicto_ with a series of strange men in her bedroom. The clock by the bed indicated that the children would have been at school and both adult Possibles should have been at their respective jobs.

He smiled as he recalled the fun he'd had in posing the synthodrones for the photos after smuggling them into the house in plumber, electrician, and painter coveralls. It had been all the more exciting as Mastermind (_The_ Mastermind?) had promised that he could have the Possible synthodrone reprogrammed as his own special toy once the daughter was dead.

The ninja hummed an ancient, ribald ditty as he used a small sponge to coat each photo with a special chemical and then slid them into the envelope after the letter. Once the letter was opened, the photos would begin a slow process of deterioration, eventually crumbling to dust and ash after twenty-four hours.

Rechecking the address on the outside, he handed the envelope to one of his minions with instructions to deliver it to the Possible girl's father at the Middleton Space Center.

"And don't let anyone see you!" he barked unnecessarily after the retreating figure. Nobody ever saw ninjas unless they wanted to be seen.

Then Fukushima turned and picked up another letter from Kim Possible. This was the real letter, the latest one he had intercepted, just the night before.

He had been fortunate to have intercepted Kim Possible's first letter to her parents at the mailbox. From there, it had been a simple matter to find where the girlfriend of his enemy was hiding. Unfortunately there was no evidence that she knew of the Pretender's whereabouts. And, he suspected, that the Pretender knew nothing of her location, either.

He would have to play this very carefully if he wanted to lure Ron Stoppable into his trap, destroy him, and reclaim the Lotus Blade for himself.

While Mastermind now knew that Fukushima was sending false messages to the girl's father to create a family crisis, his masked employer didn't know about the intercepted letters from the girl. If Mastermind were to find out that Fukushima actually knew where the former teen heroine was—and that he had forged a letter to her, as well—well, that would not only put a crimp in the ninja's plans but could prove to be an unhealthy situation all around…

**RSVP**

_**Dear Kim,**_

_**We are taking a real risk to send this to you and we dare not do so again until it is safe!**_

_**Those strange monkey powers have infected Ron's mind and driven him mad. Worse, we think he is obsessed and intends to kill you. We have left Middleton for our own safety as well as yours so there is no point in you coming home right now. Do not return to Middleton until we send word that it is safe. Lay low and give no one any clue as to your whereabouts for now. We have a plan for dealing with this but your return could prove dangerous for Ron, as well.**_

_**Be safe and know that we love you. As soon as it is possible for you to come back, we will send word.**_

_**Love,**_

_**Mom & Dad**_

A wet stain appeared on the page, blurring one of the printed words, and Kim Possible set the letter aside as more tears began to fall.

_Oh Ron!_ she thought, _What has happened to you? Can you be redeemed? Can I ever look at you again without thinking of that night?_

Once again an overwhelming feeling of hopelessness and betrayal washed over her and she fell across her bed sobbing.

**RSVP**

Her cell phone chimed as she walked to her car.

"Anne Possible," she answered as she clicked the remote to unlock and start her vehicle.

"Dr. Possible?" asked an unfamiliar female voice.

"Yes. Who is this?"

"Please hold for Mr. Pop-Pop Porter…"

Another voice was on the line almost instantly. "Dr. Possible? This is Victor Porter. Most folks know me as Pop-Pop Porter. I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time…"

Opening the door, she slid into the driver's seat wondering why she, of all people, would be getting a phone call from the Frozen Food King. "I have a few minutes," she answered, closing the door.

"I have a personal favor to ask of you and I wish to remunerate you handsomely for your services."

"What sort of favor, sir?"

"A medical one, Dr. Possible; perhaps a miracle one."

"Well, as a doctor it would be unethical for me to be paid outside of my set fee structures with the hospital."

"Well, this is a special situation, I'm afraid. My granddaughter is bringing a young man to Middleton for a consultation. They should be arriving within the next hour or so—"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Porter but today is my day off. Middleton hospital has a fine staff of surgeons and medical professionals—"

"Dr. Possible, this young man may have sustained a head or brain injury. He's been unconscious for a couple of days, now. My granddaughter is flying in with him from Japan and I've arranged for a private ambulance to bring him straight to the hospital from the airport."

Anne's resistance softened at the concern in the older man's voice. "He must be important to you, sir."

"He's important to my granddaughter, Doctor. Vivian hasn't had much luck with men and she's had nothing to do with them for the past several years. This one has got her attention and she's putting herself out there again. Do you have children, Dr. Possible?"

"I do."

"Then you know how it is. You'd do anything, move heaven and earth, if you could spare them the pain of a broken heart. She hasn't said much but I can hear it in her voice: if this young man does not recover, it could close her back up for years to come. I can't allow that to happen. I'll spend whatever it takes to be sure that everything can be done and in a timely manner."

"Money is not an issue," she assured him. "We give our patients the best of care whether they're rich or poor. Everyone is treated the same at Middleton Medical Center."

"Not this young man," Pop-Pop Porter persisted. "He's a hero! He stopped the Genpatsu nuclear plant meltdown. He saved thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of lives. Vivian seems to think that you're his best hope. She speaks very highly of you and your husband."

"My husband?"

"Vivy works at the Middleton Space Center in the Robotics division. She says your daughter helped her out a couple of years back."

All but one of the disparate pieces of the puzzle fell into place for her: "Dr. Vivian Porter is your granddaughter?" Following the surprise of the roboticist's familial ties to one of the richest men in the world came a sense of relief.

The relief that her husband's beautiful, blonde coworker was enamored of someone else entirely.

Whoever that young man was, she could just kiss him!

"Dr. Possible, if you won't see him today for the money I would gladly pay you, if you won't do it for the grateful nation of Japan, then do it out of your own personal gratitude—and the gratitude of every man, woman, and child on the planet: Mr. Stoppable saved us all last year when he stopped that alien invasion…Dr. Possible? Dr, Possible?"

Anne had dropped her cell phone.

* * *

**ABOUT THE CHAPTER TITLE: "The Message is the Medium" is a "flip" on the famous quote by Marshall McLuhan: "The Medium is the Message." Rather than spend a couple more paragraphs here, I'll just direct you to Wikipedia for any follow-up…**

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**Author's/Notes:**

**_I named the nuclear facilities in the story "Genpatsu," the Japanese word for nuclear power plant or nuclear power supply. Has anyone noticed that our evil ninja shares the same name (Fukushima) as the actual crippled nuclear plant in Japan? Hey, don't blame me: Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley presumably created and named him…_**

**_And a historical footnote to any readers coming to the table now: The answer to the Quiz posted at the end of Chapter 9 was eventually provided by Feudor and was announced at the beginning of Chapter 19. Just thought I'd save you all the trouble of guessing and posting. _**

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**NEW CONTEST! (6/24/14): As you have just learned in this chapter, Fukushima has smuggled human-looking synthodrones into the Possible house to take some incriminating photos to further destroy the family. What will happen to the one that looks like Anne Possible after this phase of the plan is complete? Drop me a PM with your theory/guess and the one that comes the closest to my plan can choose to have a minor character named after them or ask me a question about the story that I will have to answer truthfully!**

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**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 15**

_Pavelius 5/24/11 . chapter 15_

Hmm... now Possibles are going to be framed of cheating by Kim's enemies? Nice turn of events...

_**Looks like it…oh, wait! You were being sarcastic when you said "nice."**_

And Kim is alive and is also misguided... hmmm... quite the drama ...

_**And likely to get worse before we're done…**_

Joss also throws in her glove for the Ronster... how many women are after him now? 4? 5?

_**Hmmm…let me get out my calculator.**_

For the Porter thingy... now that you mention it... it is a possibility (no pun intended) that the Doctor is somehow related to Pop-Pop...

_**Could be a coincidence—the series never did say. But I like the possibilities!**_

Chapter 9 quiz... dunno... maybe JCvD? Because he has also some good Martial-Arts moves like Kim? Just a shot into the blue...

Pavel

**_Sorry, Pavel: the "Muscles from Brussels" would have been my first guess, too. (As you know by now, the answer is related to the Hitchcock film, "North by Northwest." But you have gotten so many others right. Do you, by any chance, work for the NSA? R~13_**

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_snake1980 5/24/11 . chapter 15_

damn what a ending. Can't wait to see what happens in the next one keep doing a great job

**_Thanks, Snake. We're just getting warmed up… R~13_**

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_CajunBear73 5/24/11 . chapter 15_

Man this is one wicked tale.

Fukushima's ploy is really setting the Possible family on its ear and keeping Kim really off balance where she is. No wonder things are as they are in Middleton with that family.

_**Fists and kicks and bolts of plasma can put you in the hospital but what Mastermind did with the synthodrones and now Fukushima is doing with the faux commincations, aims for the kind of damage to the heart that hospitals don't fix.**_

Joss really is such the teen angst festival there. But she's always been in Ron's corner after that one visit to Montana.

_**If Joss was Ron's age that boy would really be "in trouble"!**_

And now Vivian seems to be attempting to claim a stake for the Ron-derby.

_**A resourceful woman with plenty of resources...**_

Hope Anne can gather her wits about her and get Ron the help he needs.

_**That boy is gonna need more than brain surgery...**_

But what of the 'Ron' who will wake up?

CB73

**_Astute observations, CB. And I'm kind of wondering about what will happen when he wakes up, too. _**

**_More importantly, as you insightfully point out, which Ron will wake up? R~13_**

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_vase 5/24/11 . chapter 15_

Story was flowing really good until last 1/4 of page.

I Actually was getting to like this story but for Fukushima to be able to know that Kim is missing and where she is where he can intercept mail from her and her dad. You lost me a little too many twist and turns. it's better for a short good story than long convoluted story.

**_Hmmmm…I will admit that the story has grown a bit convoluted. I don't know if it would have helped to have spent more time detailing how Fukushima intercepted Kim's first letter and was able to backtrack it to where she was living before setting up the letter drops and substitutions for both parties. Doing this can sometimes clarify things—but it can also bog the story down with extra details and take the readers out of the primary plot-lines and slow down the momentum of the story. So…I dunno: like you said, it's already long and convoluted. Making it longer and more convoluted didn't seem the way to go here, for this particular plot point._**

**_(6/25/14) I've done a slight re-edit of the Fukushima letter bait-and-switch scene to clarify it a little-hope it helps some._**

**_This is planned as an epic story that is going to get even more complex before all of the characters are on the stage or have taken their turn—so you might not be happy no matter what I do. I agree that short stories are ever more elegant than novels. But I am writing a novel here (or maybe more than one) so the question is: is the problem the length, the complexity, or the execution? It is going to be long and it is going to be complex but if the problem is the execution, don't be shy about pointing that out or offering suggestions. I think a story can be long and good (though it often doesn't work out that way) and care must be taken to not lose the readers along the way. I hope I don't lose you and can find a way to make the ride worthwhile all the way to the end. R~13 _**

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_Sentinel103 5/24/11 . chapter 15_

oh so it's time to reveal a few things huh? Well Fukushima and I guess DNAmy both need to have some fun with a bunch of other ninjas.

Larry (Sentinel 103)

**_Ah, the benefits of the rewrite. As questions arise, it's nice to go back and fill in the motivations or the actions that have been hidden up until now. _**

**_As for Fukushima's and DNAmy's rewards in all of this? Maybe ninjas, maybe not. Remember, sometimes Evil does triumph, buy a yacht, and move to a fabulous mansion in the Bahamas… R~13_**

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_sh8ad8ow 5/25/11 . chapter 15_

great chapter as for the poll for the pairing I vote for Ron/Vivian, please update soon.

**_Ron/Vivian? There's a pairing you don't see very often. Or at all, maybe. Or so far…? So, would that be "Riv" or "Viron"? Hmmmmm… R~13_**

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_Wanderer3 5/29/11 . chapter 15_

Great work over the whole story. But now it appears the plot is about to thicken even more and several parts are about to become cleared up, if given half the chance.

If you're going on in the shipping pool, then I'll toss a view votes in:

I'd toss my vote for Vivan first, just for the hell of it. Hopefully their ages aren't TOO different to make it weird.

Then, just cause I'm looking for something different; Monique would be my second choice. Not used very often fanfic wise, and not very often as a love interest especially compared to others, so I wouldn't object to one coming outta nowhere. _

The other choices:

Betty, strikes me as too ...mature... for Ron.

Shego...been done before.

Yori?...ri-i-i-i-ight, wishful thinking at best in my opinion.

Kim: would be a happy ending, but I don't see it happening the way they've both been played like they have. Which was artfully done btw, *my inner villain applauds politely*

Bonnie: Gold digger and popularity junkie, so no

Amelia... Might be nice, but her mental stability is starting to come into question in my view. I can only imagine what she'd do if she got a hold of Ron.

Anyway, later and keep up the good work.

**_Thanks, man. It's very interesting to see your list. You don't just toss names out but give some thoughtful reasons as to who wouldn't work and why. I like that! And I'm glad that the Mastermind plot works for you: I was afraid my use of this Kim Possible character as our mysterious masked villain wouldn't work out for Part I of this story. I'll be curious as to the reader reactions when the mask finally comes off—assuming Mastermind's identity isn't figured out before then. R~13 _**

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_Firestorm Rising 5/29/11 . chapter 15_

I really do hope that you continue this story. It is one of the best Ron-centric stories I've read. Keep up the good work.

**_Thank you. I'm surprised that there aren't more Ron stories out there. They seem to be in decline while the KIGO stories grow more ascendant. Le sigh… R~13_**

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_Old Soldier 9/14/12 . chapter 15_

Hiya, me again. The hospital in Middleton where .P. works is called "Middleton Medical Centre" (see Fearless Ferret ep) :)

OS

**_Much grass! It's great when readers help me fix stuff like this. I don't have a Beta and the story is growing more complex so I rely on sharp-eyed readers to help me catch this stuff so I can fix it. I've corrected the copy to conform with canon. Thanks! R~13_**

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_Uberscribbler 12/9/12 . chapter 15_

...is...

**Ubberscribbler ****_is still in slo-mo mode... R~13_**

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_SykoSid 7/8/13 . chapter 15_

Stumbled on this and what a treat. Halfway through this epic and I have to say. I was struck by your writing poise and your approach to the characters and their relationships. Very enjoyable read. Ill keep this short as I have 15 other chapters waiting in the wings. Keep me on my toes and keep on writing SykoSid

**_Glad you're liking it so far because I'm currently re-editing and re-posting 42 Chapters of RSVP I and then will re-edit 36 Chapters of RSVP II before continuing on with "new" chapters. So…not nearly halfway through, yet. Enjoy the ride! R~13_**

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_gjin19 7/30/13 . chapter 15_

Sometimes I think that the purpose of this whole story is to praise Ron and show how stupid Kim is. I mean, almost every time a girl thinks about him it goes like this:"He is so brave and strong and loyal and I love him soooo much!" or "Could it be that I love Ron Stoppable?" or "No, it couldn't be that I love Ron Stoppable!" I don't have anything against portraying a character as positive and kind and whatnot, but think you are going really overboard with it and instead of evoking some positive reactions it just makes my teeth hurt.

Speaking of girls. Is it going to be a harem story? I don't mind it, but, while sometimes this feelings don't seem unexpected, like say, in the case of Kim's cousin (she seemed to like, if not love, Ron in canon too), sometimes it just comes out of nowhere(Leon for example). Also, I like how you portrayed Shego, I think, being a tsundere suits her just fine.

**_Well, I don't mean to portray Kim as stupid. Both Ron and Kim have been misled by the events in Chapter 1 so I don't think I'm showing him any favoritism in that specific regard. Most of the stories here that separate Ron & Kim from being together romantically either seem to do so by making Kim a lesbian or a cheating, untrustworthy bitch. Without giving away what happens later, I wanted to separate them in a way so that neither of them was really the bad guy and Kim didn't go through another incarnation of mean Kim or unfaithful Kim or shallow Kim, etc., etc., etc. And I'm not showing Kim at this stage of the story because, as I've said before, this is a "Roncentric" story and Kim will have no direct impact on events for awhile._**

**_That being said, the other issue-having all of this almost one-dimensional female attention on Ron-can certainly get old fast! There are justifiable reasons for it, beyond having money, being a nice guy, and having saved the planet with superhuman powers. We'll be finding out that there is a supernatural reason for Ron's effect on the women in his proximity-but that will be revealed down the road a bit. In the meantime, some of his former female acquaintances are somewhat affected by the fact that Ron has matured both physically and emotionally and become more interesting to the girls who are no longer enmeshed in the social games and shortsightedness of high school. They've matured, as well. But that doesn't change the fact that it can all become tiresome and a bit over the top with repetition-hence your complaint. As I said, there is something going on beyond all that and it will be addressed in a number of ways, starting just a bit down the road..._**

**_I'm trying to not make this a story where Ron becomes omnipotent in his powers and skills-that would get boring fast. Nor am I looking to make him a "player". That's certainly not on his agenda right now and I think Ron would cease to be the Ron that we all know and like-like._**

**_Originally I hadn't planned this as a "harem" story (not saying that it will be, either-at least in the expected sense) and the readers have pushed me a bit in ways I hadn't anticipated. Any excesses are my fault but it's hard to course-correct here FFdotNET. Once you post a bunch of chapters, you can go back and rewrite or delete or change everything but it's hard with reader reviews attached to each chapter: change things too radically and the comments just don't make sense. Most readers don't get to read "published" books or stories until they appear in their final forms. Authors get to go back at the end of a novel and rewrite the whole thing, taking out the excess or changing the wrong turns and so on. Since we're posting a work-in-progress here, some of the flaws are hard to repurpose. _**

**_I hope you'll stick with me. I think you'll like where things eventually end up. But I should warn you for the sake of your teeth: it's gonna get worse before it gets better... R~13 _**

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_Some Dude 8/25/13 . chapter 15 _

I'm running out of positive words to describe your chapters...

**_Don't worry, you'll get mad and call me a dick again in no time. LOL R~13_**

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_loganhunter2 chapter 15 . Jan 11_

So that atack on titan suggestions stays in the hope of lighthearted. ...great story so far also i kinda expected wade to keep tabs on everything that comes in or out of the possible house

_**Hang in there: things will get better! But, there will still be a little doom and a smidgen of gloom now and then, here and there...just to keep things interesting. As for Wade? I'd blame Global Justice on this one. Wade is used to serving as Kim's support and following her lead. Since she (and Ron) are missing somewhere "out there," he's not paying attention to the Possible's house because she's obviously not there and no one has requested it. Another Type-A personality female is handing him assignments (well, I've sort of implied that, anyway) and Betty Director is keeping him busy and distracted. That's my story and I'm sticking to it! (Until I can think of a better one, that is.) R~13**_

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_crash2663 8/27/14 chapter 15 _

Nice cliffhanger!

_**Thanks! R~13**_


	16. Another Shipping Pool

**Required Disclaimer:** _RSVP is a work of fan fiction. The author and his psychiatrist assert that this is an act of therapy, only, and no claims—creative or financial—are made in regards to the copyrighted and trademarked characters & sitches of the Disney Co._

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**Chapter Sixteen – Another Shipping Pool**

Although Colorado had enjoyed a few days of Spring-worthy weather, summer was still months away. But that didn't stop two young women from donning swimsuits and lying out by the pool to work on their tans.

It didn't hurt, of course, that the Rockwallers had an indoor pool with a large skylight and several portable sunlamps, either.

Tara King wiggled her barely covered derriere as she settled into a more comfortable position on her stomach and whined a little. "I'm afraid…"

Bonnie Rockwaller lifted her UV goggles, barely smaller than her bikini top, and looked over at her fellow, former Middleton cheer mate. "And tell me, Miss-I'm-Not-Afraid-Of-The-Food Chain, just what has compromised your formerly fearless attitude?"

The bubbly blonde smiled. "I'm afraid this feels so nice that I'll just doze right off and wake up in an hour with second-degree burns." She giggled softly.

Bonnie grinned. "I won't let you burn, babe. 'Sides, no one gets that much exposure in just an hour."

"Maybe not for you Mediterranean types," Tara countered, "but us Nordic types have to sneak up on our tans. It's not fair."

"Not fair that in twenty years I'll have skin like fine Corinthian leather while you'll still be mistaken for a twenty-year-old?"

"Oh, B, you'll get your law degree, marry a rich hottie, hire a nanny for the kids, and jet away on the weekends to the finest European spas to keep the total package going on forever!" Another giggle.

Bonnie countered with: "While you get your med degree and run around the hospital with your hair in a ponytail and wearing scrubs that make you look like you're all ready for bed. You'll have your pick—doctors or patients—and they'll have to keep you away from cardiology because of all of the hearts you'll be breaking."

The blonde sighed. "The only heart I keep breaking is my own…" she murmured.

"No! Don't start!"

"I won't…I know you hate him."

"I—I can't hate him," Bonnie grumbled. "Because he's my bo…" her voice trailed off.

"_What!_" There was a loud clatter as one of the sunlamps was tipped over and Tara was suddenly standing over Bonnie's lounge chair. "Did you say _boyfriend_?"

**RSVP**

It was a quiet and uneventful flight.

Ron remained comatose and the Bebes weren't programmed to engage in conversational small talk. Or, rather, Bebe, Cece, and Dede weren't: technically they weren't "Bebes" anymore, being reprogrammed and redesigned upgrades. And, with one of them using the name "Bebe," it was just too confusing to lump them together under the same name. Besides, Drs. Drakken, Freeman, and Bortel had indicated that their programming would begin to diverge and evolve separately the longer they operated independently.

In the meantime the Be—B-bots had a major flaw in their human-like appearance. They were crappy conversationalists. And when they did speak, their voices generally lacked the variable tonality of human speech, never mind their vocabulary and syntax.

"Ladies," Vivian offered, "I would like to suggest an upgrade to your programming."

"Will it help us serve Ron Stoppable more effectively?" Cece asked.

The roboticist for the Middleton Space Center gave that some thought. "It will make you more efficient and effective for security purposes," she told them. _And keep Ron from thrusting pencils in his ears after the first twenty-four hours of listening to you,_ she thought to herself.

"Upgrade me first," Dede demanded.

Maybe this wouldn't be as difficult as she had thought.

**RSVP**

"Don't blame me," Bonnie fumed, "it's Amelia's fault! She was starting to tell the other people on campus that Stoppable was _her_ boyfriend. I had to stop her before it got out of hand!"

"But—but—you hate him! You've always hated him!"

"I—I don't really _hate_ him. I've never _really_ hated him. It's just that—" Again her voice faded away.

"_What_, B? As far back as I can remember you were always ragging on him. If I had a dollar for every time you called him 'Loser' I could pay my way through med school with cash and buy a new car on the side!" She folded her arms in front of her chest and spread her legs a little more. "And every time I expressed an interest in him you were all over my case, giving me long lectures about _my_ reputation and how mismatched we were, how I could do better, how—how—" Her eyes grew wide. "Oh. My. _God!_ _You_ were crushing on him all along!"

Bonnie's lack of a response confirmed Tara's sudden epiphany.

"How long, B? How long have you been obsessing?"

"It wasn't—I didn't—obsession is such a strong word—"

"But you like him, you _like_-like him!"

"I don't _like_-like him! I just don't _hate_-hate him, either." She withered a bit under her best friend's glare. "Maybe 'like-hate' or 'hate-like' or…I don't _know_…"

Tara sat back on her lounge chair. Her face grew thoughtful and, at length she lay back down and folded her hands across her stomach.

"All those years…" she said quietly, working the memories around in her head. "All the competitiveness. You weren't competing for top spot on the cheer squad; you were competing for Ron…"

"Don't be ridicu—"

"All of those insults, all of the put-downs: you were trying to break them up…"

"They didn't start dating until Senior Year," Bonnie countered in an unsteady voice.

"But you were trying to drive the wedge years before. Back when they were nothing more than friends."

"Nothing _more_?" Bonnie's voice grew stronger but shriller. "_Nothing_ more? He only had eyes for her even then! What kind of 'friend' follows you all over the world and into every danger imaginable? What kind of 'friend' risks his life constantly so that you can take all of the credit? What kind of 'friend' watches the woman he loves go off with the pretty boys who don't do diddly-shit while he moves heaven and earth to make her happy and saves her when she can't get her head out of her own ass?"

"At least she never called him a loser."

"Didn't she? Tell me, Tara: which hurt him more? My words? Or her _disregard_?"

Tara was taken aback. "But she came around Senior Year," she reminded finally. "And you were somewhat distracted by that Junior Senior fellow."

"Oh, yes: Señor Senior Junior." He voice dripped with self-loathing. "Some people self-medicate with booze, others with pills. I self-medicated myself just short of a coma with that muscle-bound idiot. Senior Year was hell for me! I thought it was bad all those times they were hanging out, all BFF and all. But once they started dating? The hand holding! The touching! The looks in their eyes, on their faces. And the kissing…"

"So, you gave up. And gave in."

Bonnie nodded weakly. "I thought I had. And then…"

"The invasion," Tara added.

Bonnie nodded. "Bam! And suddenly he's not mine—_ours_—anymore. The secret's out. There are photos, videos on the news, the internet, cell phones, magazine covers. Ron Stoppable, front and center. Ron Stoppable in action. Ron Stoppable, hero. Ron Stoppable, savior."

"Ron Stoppable, number one heartthrob with a bullet," Tara supplied. "Ron Stoppable, the one that got away."

"Yeah. Maybe…"

Tara gaped. "_Maybe?_"

**RSVP**

"So, Betts…earthquakes and tsunamis and nuclear meltdowns must agree with you…"

Betty looked over at Shego. "What?"

"You've been up now, what, thirty-six hours straight? And have been catching cat naps on a cot for like a week now?"

Dr. Director sat up on the crate she had made into a makeshift bed and turned up the portable lantern to better see Shego on the other side of the cargo hold. "Yeah? And you look like hell, too."

"I know I do," the former villainess admitted. "But you…_don't_. In fact—and maybe it's the crappy light in here—you look even better than you did before we left home. Younger…"

The Global Justice director slipped her hand into her pocket and toyed with the stone fragment she had retrieved from the stasis locker in the Japan branch office. "That's odd."

"Yes," Shego agreed, "yes it is…"

**RSVP**

"The press covered him all the way to the airport," Bonnie reminded her friend. "He flew off to Japan. Alone! The Japanese press covered his arrival."

"Until he disappeared a few hours later," Tara agreed. "But Kim has gone missing, too. Who's to say they're not together…"

Bonnie picked up on something in her friend's voice. "You don't believe that," she accused. "You _know_ something! _Spill!_"

Tara looked stricken. "I feel like I'm betraying a confidence…"

Bonnie was suddenly standing over her, now. "Who's been your BFF since Pre-K, Tara? Who taught you every cheer routine before you tried out for the squad, Freshman Year? Who—"

"I ran into Kim's mother a while back…" Tara acquiesced with a sigh. And began telling Bonnie what Dr. Possible had confided in her.

**RSVP**

Sometimes it looked like a giant, hairless, pink rodent. Sometimes it looked like a ball of flickering light. Most of the time it simply "was" and yet could not be described.

Almost as indescribable was the room that was not quite a "room" and the numerous inhabitants that filled it...

...all of them looking like Ron Stoppable!

"We don't understand," some of the Rons seated around the table said. "You said that we could forget Kim and not hurt any more."

**I promised Ron Stoppable that he would be relieved of the burden of memory for a while,** the being known as Rufus answered. **All of you, here, are but portions of the mind and soul of Ronald Dean Stoppable.**

One of the Rons, this one wearing a white chef's hat, said: "That sounds a little half-baked."

Another Ron, this one muscle-bound and top heavy like Señor Senior Junior stood up and pounded the table causing it to shake and rattle. "Ridiculous! Ron Stoppable fears nothing! Certainly not something as wimpy as a memory!"

Other Rons chimed in though a fair number were quiet and looked either thoughtful or frightened.

"Ahhhhh! Boo-ya-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!" A lunatic giggle sliced through the protestations and everyone fell silent, turning to look at the Ron chained to a chair at the far end of the table. His skin was blue and his red eyes glinted with more than a hint of madness. "So, Ron Stoppable is feeling a little…_blue_…is he?" Zorpox Ron tittered. "If you'll let me back out, I'll see that he's feeling…_on top of the world_…in no time! Ah ha! Ah ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-h—ompff!" A metal gag suddenly appeared over the lunatic's giggling mouth.

**As I was saying,** Rufus continued, **the greater Ron Stoppable—as with all human personalities—is made up of different components or subsets. All of you here are aspects of the greater amalgamation that is Ronald Prime. Some of you are ascendant, some are descendant. Some have grown in power and influence while others have receded as Ron has grown and matured and conquered his fears and immaturities.**

"What does this have to do with us forgetting Kim Possible?" some of the Rons asked again.

**I made no such promise to you,** Rufus answered. **I only promised Ronald Prime. And in order to keep that promise—a temporary one at best—I must selectively edit his recall so that the greater portion of Ron—so entwined with Kimberly Ann Possible—is not lost or too heavily suppressed.**

A chorus of "What does that mean?" rang out.

**It means that some of you are going to sleep, now, while others will be permitted to come out so long as you do not supply his consciousness with unfiltered memories of their relationship. I cannot remove Kim Possible from the landscape of Ron's history without creating insurmountable paradoxes. Kim Possible is an irrefutable fact of Middleton history, a history that Ron Stoppable shares. I can, however and for a little while, change the focus of their relationship so that she recedes into the background. To Ron, she will be a memory but no more significant than that of the nameless girl in blue.**

A chorus of "Who?"s followed.

**Precisely.**

**RSVP**

"So the Possibles don't know where Kim is, either?"

"They could be on some top secret, deep undercover mission," Tara objected.

"Sure. They could have left the country separately and reunited overseas. Or they could have broken up and Ron left the country while Kim's laying low or off on some solo mission. The press seemed to think he was pretty distraught when he split. I'm betting that Kim went off on him when he finally got credit for being something more than her little nameless lapdog."

"So, you're taking advantage of his absence to _pretend_ to be his girlfriend?"

"His absence and their probable breakup."

"And what happens when Ron returns?"

Bonnie smiled. "If Possible broke his heart then I have just the crazy-glue to put it back together."

Tara slowly got up. "Even if Kim is out of the picture aren't you worried about the competition?"

"I ran Amelia off without really trying. Anyone else gets in my way? I'm not afraid of a little scratching and hair pulling."

Tara stepped toward Bonnie until she was right in her face. "Even with your BFF since Pre-K?"

Bonnie swallowed nervously: she had spent so many years dismissing Tara's Roncrush that she had forgotten to take the blonde seriously as a rival. Now she was suddenly faced with a dilemma: step aside for her best friend and give up her shot of hooking up with a global hero—or maybe lose her best friend forever with no guarantee that she could bag Ron Stoppable anyway.

Tara's cell phone suddenly rang, saving her from having to make an immediate choice.

"It's Tri-City Ambulance," the blonde girl said, picking up the phone from her folded towel. "But this is my day off…"

Bonnie retreated a step and listened as her possibly _ex-_friend took the call.

"Tara King…but I'm not on the sched…well, of course, if it's an emergen…Life-Flight…asked for me? But who…yes sir! I'm on my way right now, sir. I'll see you in less than thirty. Bye."

She stooped and grabbed her towel and then turned back to Bonnie. "Sorry, B, I've gotta run. Some V.I.P. patient is being flown into Middleton and I'm supposed to assist with transport to the hospital via the Life-Flight air ambulance. Apparently I was specifically requested for by name."

Bonnie made shooing motions with her hands, secretly relieved that their conversation was temporarily derailed.

But Tara wasn't finished, yet. "Bonnie, I don't own Ron and so I have no right to tell you that you can't try to date him."

Bonnie started to smile.

"But as your best friend since Pre-K I'm very concerned about you and I wouldn't want to see you get hurt…"

Bonnie's smile faltered.

"…which is what will happen if you _get in my way!_" And, with that, Tara strode off, her bikinied bottom undulating in a manner to remind the former Queen B that the competition would be fierce on more than one level.

**RSVP**

Amelia stormed into her dorm room in a foul mood. Word was already starting to get around campus that world hero Ron Stoppable was no longer her boyfriend but had taken up with Bonnie Rockwaller! A nobody _freshman_!

The loss in status didn't actually bother her as much as she thought, though…

She had truly believed that once Ron returned, they could renew their all-too-brief little fling from back in high school.

She was, after all, his red otter and he, her pink sloth.

He was her destiny!

A destiny that should have been a no-brainer…

At the risk of seeming shallow, Amelia knew that she was "hot."

She didn't think that she had let it go to her head but what was the point in denying that nature and genetics had blessed her. On top of the "raw essentials" she had a God-given talent for enhancing her natural gifts with careful choices in cosmetics and fashion. Her daily workouts and weekly lessons in Capoeira kept everything tight, firm, and guaranteed that she was always in fighting trim whether it was on the dance floor or walking past a darkened alley late at night. There was certainly nothing wrong in accentuating her advantages—I mean, why would she do anything to sabotage what the universe had so carefully put together?

_Likewise, why would she settle for some ordinary guy and an ordinary life when she could do so much better?_

She had grown up these past two years with high school in the rear view mirror. Back then she had been _so_ ruled by the fake social scene. Ron Stoppable was already a hero—traveling the world, freak-fighting adult villains—but she had been afraid to acknowledge him until Animology gave her the excuse she needed.

But then he had shot her down before she could get three words out, saying that he didn't believe in it and wouldn't have anything to do with it.

When he became rich, it looked like she might have another shot on a level social field—but Bitch Bonnie had gotten there first and hogged him all to herself and all Amelia could do was hang out around the fringe of his fair-weather posse and venal hangers-on.

She was ashamed of herself that—once the money had disappeared and Ron's social standing with it—she had backed away, too embarrassed to make her play for a guy two years younger than her and with a dicey reputation.

In her defense, it was her senior year and she was really, really busy. Grant applications. Scholarship offers. Colleges to choose from. Everyone might think she was smokin' hot—but Amelia was more than some bimbo looking to coast toward a two-year Liberal Arts associate degree and marriage to some M.B.A. with a job lined up in his daddy's firm.

She was good at Math, great at Physics, and untouchable at Chemistry. For the past two years she had paid Wade Load a tidy sum to tutor her on the side—and even more to keep his mouth shut about it.

No, Amelia Rothschild was no ordinary woman and she would not settle for an ordinary guy or an ordinary life!

So, how was she going to get Ron back?

Bonnie was an impediment—sure—but even with Bonnie out of the picture, she would still have to compete with any number of women who would rush in to take her place.

So, step one—Seduce Ron Stoppable—would hardly be a stand alone solution. _Getting_ him didn't mean she would be able to _keep_ him.

Step two—_Holding on_ to Ron Stoppable—could well be far more challenging than step one.

Her plans of flopping down on her bed to give the matter deeper thought were derailed by the sight of her freshman roommate and the three guys who were hovering around her "helping" with her homework.

Karen Comfort…

Amelia had seen her around Middleton high school during her last two years there but hadn't known her name. The nameless-girl-in-blue was how she had thought of her then. She had worn the same ensemble on every occasion that Amelia had laid eyes on her: blue jeans, blue shirt, blue sweater or windbreaker. Not exactly a fashion plate.

And the girl was no great beauty, either. A little broad in the hips and less in the chest. Reddish brown hair in a pageboy that framed her blue eyes, snub nose, freckles and a large mouth. Not ugly by any means but nothing to make her stand out in a crowd, either.

And she was always in a crowd: the high school, the library, the theater, the Fearless Ferret convention—even the X-Games! And she was almost always with a guy.

Or, not infrequently: _guys_.

As in more than one.

Like right now.

Amelia cleared her throat. "Hey, Karen. Can we talk?"

Her roommate looked up. As did the three guys who gave the stunning coed an appreciative "up and down." And then turned their attention back to Karen.

_Oh, that sealed it! _Amelia cocked her head at the door.

"Guys, I need a little down time with my roomie" Karen said, picking up on Amelia's mood. "Meet me in the student union in an hour."

The guys—all three decent lookers—grumbled good-naturedly and disinvited each other from keeping that appointment as they shuffled out the door.

"What's up, Amelia?" Karen asked as the door closed on her current male harem.

Amelia sat on her bed and clasped her knees. "I need some tutoring."

"I thought Dr. Load was helping you with that."

Amelia's mouth dropped open. "Nobody's supposed to know about that!"

Karen shrugged. "There are a lot of times when people tend to forget that I'm in the same room with them. I hear things."

"Well, then how does someone who's so unnoticeable get noticed by so many guys?"

Karen shrugged again. "It's a combination of things…"

"Like what?"

Karen sat back. "It's complicated. Some of it is rather simple and other things are quite involved and specific to the girl and/or the guy. Why?"

Amelia leaned forward. "I want you to tutor me. And I'll pay you good money!"

"Tutor you? In how to get guys?"

"Yes."

"Guys in general? Or one, specific guy?"

"One. Why? What's the difference?"

Karen smiled. "If I do this properly, my young padawan, you must first learn the 'Way of the Many' before you concentrate on the 'Way of the Few'."

"Or 'The One'," Amelia smiled.

Karen clapped her hands. "Excellent, Daniel-san! How many pop cultural references have we mixed in the last minute?"

"Three, Mr. Miyagi. When do we start?"

"We already have. You have great potential, A. Tomorrow you will wash my car down in the parking lot."

"Uh, how is 'wax on, wax off' going to help me in this endeavor?"

"It isn't. It's your first payment for the lessons ahead. Of course if you choose to wear a tight tee shirt and the shortest cut-offs you can legally go out in public in…and splash a lot of water around, I'm sure you can earn some extra credits on the side."

"What if it's too cold tomorrow?"

"What you choose to wear is up to you. But you'd be surprised how far those _two_ extra _points_ can get you…"

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**ABOUT THE CHAPTER TITLE: "Another Shipping Pool" - ****W**_**hen I was posting these chapters for the first time, I was posting the results of the ongoing "Shipping Pool"—i.e. everyone's guess/bet as to which relationship would turn out to be the dominant one in this story. In this chapter, Bonnie and Tara are lying out by the pool as they discuss their relationship issues with the Ronster, hence this chapter's title: "Another Shipping **__**Pool**__**."**_

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**Author's/Notes: **

**_Ah, the "Nameless Girl in Blue": in the background of most Kim Possible episodes and often in the company of male companionship! I originally named her Karen though at least one fan has made a compelling argument that her name is actually Linda. However, there are other sources to suggest that two "additional" cheerleaders were named Linda and Maggie-which I won't get into here. But since I will fall back on those two names later, I'll stick with Karen. And, in the tradition of certain Kim Possible character names, I've added a last name to create a catchphrase: Karen Comfort = Care and Comfort…_**

**_Another shoutout to _****Sentinel103****_: we've been dialoging in PM as he'd dropped some reviews in the past and the site software doesn't allow further commentary on a chapter once you've posted. Also, a big hello to _****blueprintstyles****_ for his words of encouragement and contibutions to the current poll. The reposts would have been a little further along by now if not for the number of crashed logins on the FanFiction site lately. I'd hoped that Ron could have enjoyed a more memorable Valentine's Day tomorrow... (2012)_**

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**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 16**

_sh8ad8ow 5/29/11 . chapter 16_

good chapter please update soon

**_As always, thank you for your words of support! R~13_**

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_CajunBear73 5/29/11 . chapter 16_

Hope there's no riot in the ER when Ron gets in... LOL!

Pretty tensely interwoven tale here. Hopefully the light will shine through to Ron and Kim can be found so some of the dominoes placed to tip over in the wrong directions can be redirected.

But you have plans, don't you? LOL!

CB73

**_Plans? Oh yes! There are plans—eeevil plans…(mwu-ha-ha-ha! Rubs hands together in a way reminiscent of one of Dr. Drakken's rants while grinning toothily) R~13_**

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_FatWiseDragon 5/30/11 . chapter 16_

shipping pool i say he gets with all of them... cause he is a pimp go ron

**_Ron? A pimp? Hmmmmm…interesting… R~13_**

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_Sentinel103 5/29/11 . chapter 16_

So now we're peeking inside Ron's mind? And his several facets of that mind are trying to think if they want to have Kim in a relationship...and not knowing that Kim and James Possible think he has gone around the bend? I still think I can eliminate Fukushima better than anyone else I know.

So are we going to have a cat fight between Tara and Bonnie, maybe Vivian and Shego cleaning up what's left over? That is until Kim Possible makes an appearence? Gee that blond teen that goes by the name Ron Stoppable is going to have to take some vitimins if he's going to survive long in this enviornment.

**_Why do you think I'm making sure that Ron gets plenty of rest right now? I think it's safe to say that Ron will definitely be in over his head, lol! But he may surprise everyone at how well he can rise to the occasion… R~13_**

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_Uberscribbler 12/9/12 . chapter 16_

...going on here!?

Other than entirely too much to follow or easily absorb in one reading, that is.

_**Exactly the way I felt when I first saw "The Sixth Sense"! Exhilarating, isn't it! **_

And we still don't have a clear location on KP. The scenes in chapters 10 and 11 were...um...helpful, but hardly definitive. A little more detail, please? A hint of geography, at least? Please?

_**No! Not until you finish your broccoli!**_

I'm also making no bets whatsoever about who the final 'ship is going to be. Just to be clear. Its pointless at this point given what Spirit Rufus just pulled. Ron's head is more cracked and screwed up than the damage he's done to the laws of particle physics right now, so he might as well begin sleeping with the Bebe Trio, the image of which is just wrong on so many levels.

_**Hmmmmmm…(**_pulls out a small notebook and makes a notation_**)…"have ron sleep with bebe trio per Uberscribbler's suggestion…**_

Doubtless I'll have more to say in the near future. First I need to re-re-re-re-re-read these latest chapters to make sure I'm clear on who's saying what to whom where and why. Which means it'll be even less coherent than this review. Be warned.

**_I should probably wait for each of your reviews before reposting another chapter: I think I broke you by giving you too much to read at once… _**

**_And a little spoiler: this story is Ron-centric, not Kim-centric. Kim will turn up…eventually. And she'll be very important to the story…eventually. But since the only person who knows where Kim is right now is Fukushima, you'll have to ask him. Oh, he said "if he told you, he'd have to kill you." Remember: _****_scary, demented, rogue ninja_****_—I wouldn't ask him… (grin) R~13_**

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_Some Dude 8/25/13 . chapter 16 _

Damn... is it weird to be jealous of a fictional character?

**_Yeah, well, Ron ain't enjoying his life right now... R~13_**


	17. Triage

**Required Disclaimer:** _Here's the math: Kim + Ron + Disney – Me = I have no rights nor claim on anything Possiblelike or Disneyesque._

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**Chapter Seventeen – Triage**

"Ever flown before, King?" The question crackled in her headphones as the Life Flight air ambulance lifted off from its helipad, tilted toward the Middleton airport, and accelerated.

"If you mean by helicopter, sir, the answer is no," she answered over her headset mic.

"Well, just remember to keep your safety hooked until we're back on the ground," Bob Bickleston told her. "And your barf bag is under your seat."

The blonde med student and EMT trainee refrained from pointing out that she never would have lasted as a Middleton cheerleader if she'd had issues with plunging through the air from dizzying heights. Her supervisor was already tweaked that she had been specifically requested for this transport, meaning an experienced flight medic had been bumped from the trip. And even though her boss had no idea as to the identity of their mysterious patient, he seemed suspicious of the fact that Tara was as much in the dark as he.

It was a short hop from the hospital to the airport and they were there in minutes. Two figures stood a short distance away from the circle of orange traffic cones on the tarmac: a short, round man and a tall, svelte woman.

Her supervisor jumped out and ran at a half crouch toward the two figures while Tara struggled with the release on her safety line. By the time she caught up with him he was already expressing his displeasure at the unorthodox arrangements.

"…highly irregular!" he was saying. "Ms. King is an inexperienced trainee and—"

"I am fully conversant with Tara King's credentials," Dr. Anne Possible interrupted. "The patient in question requires transport only. If there are any emergency procedures that need to be performed en route, I'm sure that I can handle them."

"You? But—there's no room!"

The short, round man produced a wallet from the inside of his suit coat and withdrew two one-hundred-dollar bills. "Cab fare," he said, taking Bickleston's hand and placing the money in his palm. "Stop on the way back and have dinner at a nice restaurant. Keep the change."

"But—but—"

"It's all been arranged with _your_ boss," Anne told him. "The one who brought you and Ms. King in on your days off. I suggest you call him for any further instructions."

"I _will_," Bob fumed, pulling out his cell phone and stepping away.

"Here they come," the other man said, pointing to a private jet taxiing across the tarmac toward their position.

Dr, Possible took Tara's arm and walked her a few more yards in the opposite direction. "Tara, thank you for coming. If this causes you any problems with your super, let me know. Though," she glanced back over at a much chastened Bob Bickleston saying _yes sir, of course sir_ to his cell, "I think we've covered all of the bases with Tri-City Ambulance."

"Dr. Possible, what is all of this about? Why am I here? And how can I help?"

"I need your help in transporting this patient, Tara. And, once we get him to the hospital, I'll need your assistance with a few other things. And, most of all, I need your utmost discretion."

"Of course, Doctor. Patient privacy is always paramount."

"Well, young man?" the short, round older gentleman asked.

"I am to extend you every courtesy," Bob said, putting away his cell phone.

"Good. One more thing before we are done. Do you know who I am?"

"I'm sorry, you look familiar but—"

"Oh my gosh!" Tara said. "You're Pop-Pop Porter!"

Porter smiled at her. "Yes, I am, young lady." Seeing the light of recognition in Bob's eyes he added, "And I'd count it as a personal favor if no one were to find out about this patient's arrival. He's a friend of the family who values his privacy. In fact, if I see no mention of him in the press for the next seventy-two hours, I'd be so grateful as to offer you both a generous bonus."

"Oh, no reward is necessary, sir," Tara said.

Bob was uncharacteristically silent all of a sudden.

"Well, that's it, then," Pop-Pop Porter said. And gestured Bob toward the terminal building with a nod of his head.

"All right, see you tomorrow, King," Bob said.

"Actually, I'll be requiring Ms. King's expertise for a few days," the frozen food king interjected. "If there are any questions—"

"I know: check with my boss."

"Indeed."

As Bob departed, the jet rolled up within thirty yards and cut its engines.

"Tara, how's your poker face?" Dr. Possible asked.

"My poker face?"

"Just promise me that you won't say anything for a few minutes," Anne elaborated, watching Bob diminish in size as he got farther away.

Tara's response was to mime the closing of a zipper across her lips.

"Tara…its Ron."

Tara was as good as her (unspoken) word.

Which was fortunate as her "poker face" left a hell of a lot to be desired.

**RSVP**

Jack Hench and Big Daddy Brotherson eyed each other across the table with suspicion and no little trepidation. Although both had done business with each other and had enjoyed a cordial relationship to this point, it was the location and circumstances of this meeting that had them off balance and on guard.

"It's been a while…" the large man said in his surprisingly deep voice.

"Yeah," the CEO of Henchco nodded. _Man,_ he thought, _put Big Daddy in an iron lung and he's sound just like Darth Vader._

"Maybe after we're done here, I could drop by your office and take a look at your latest catalog…"

The dapper, suited man answered with a slight shake of his head. "We don't do dead tree, any more. Everything's on-line. Just Google 'Henchco' for our website."

The big man considered. "Buy you a drink, then?"

With a start Hench realized that the crime boss was reaching out, offering a coded invitation to meet privately and compare notes. Like himself, Brotherson had probably deduced that Mastermind's lair was probably bugged so that anything they said would be overheard and recorded. Maybe even videotaped. Feigning disinterest, he said: "Thanks just same but I booked pretty solid for the next couple of weeks—" Meeting the big man's gaze with his own, he gave him an obvious wink and mouthed "yes" and continued out loud: "—give me a call next month and we'll work something out. You've got my number?"

Brotherson gave him a conspiratorial nod. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

The double doors at the far side of the room flew open and a goggled woman entered, wearing a dark jumpsuit tricked out with circuitry patterns. Those patterns were clearly functional in some way one noticed after the first casual glance.

Of course both men recognized her as the criminal known as Electronique—Jack Hench from direct business dealings with her and Big Daddy Brotherson from stories he'd heard as well as a couple of fuzzy photos on the internet.

She approached them, producing a wand from a holster on her left hip, and proceeded to check them for weapons and recording devices.

"You know, Elle, I can get your boss a great deal on an in-lair scanner," Hench told her as she worked the electronic detector up and down his double-breasted suit. "Full coverage on all entry and exit points, including vents, drop-ceilings, sewers, and crawl-spaces."

She made no reply and moved over to Brotherson where the wand began to squeal as she checked his extremities.

The big man scowled up at her. "Four steel pins, seven metal plates, thirty-two screws. Ask your boss, I submitted the medical records to him six months ago."

She arched an eyebrow at him and he snapped: "Your cohort, Killigan. On two separate occasions that maniac has detonated exploding golf balls on my premises. The last time it took the paramedics seven hours to dig me out of the rubble. I'm—" He shook his head. "You'll forgive me if I don't get up."

Electronique gazed at him a moment longer, her dark goggles and her bluish, almost inhuman face betraying no emotion. Then she gave him a slight nod and stepped away.

As she walked back around to the far side of the table, the double doors opened and Mastermind entered the room on a flying throne.

**RSVP**

The door of the jet was open now and the passenger ladder unfolded to the ground.

Tara's first impulse was to rush inside and see to Ron but her training and her manners kicked in and she waited for Dr. Possible to make the first move.

Anne, for her part, was less restrained. She hurried over and had her foot on the first step when a blonde woman stuck her head out of the doorway. "Dr. Possible?" she asked.

"Dr. Porter," Anne replied.

Tara didn't know Kim's mother all that well but she thought she detected a degree of coolness that went a little beyond the strictures of "professionalism."

"It's a little cramped in here so, if you'll give us a minute, we'll bring him out before you examine him."

"Do you need any help?" Tara asked, mindful of the challenges presented by the awkward stepladder and the distance from the doorway to the ground.

"I think we've got it covered," Dr. Porter answered, turning to look back into the cabin and then taking the angled steps down to the tarmac.

Pop-Pop Porter came up to his granddaughter and hugged her. "Vivy! How was your flight? Do you need anything? What can I do?"

She hugged him back fiercely. "The flight was great, Grampa. Smooth and fast and I was even able to sleep a little. But you've done more than enough, getting us cleared through customs with diplomatic immunity and keeping this on the down low."

He kissed her forehead and then looked around and frowned. "I don't see Oliver."

"Ollie had an accident."

"Nothing serious, I hope?"

She gave her head a slight shake. "I won't know until I get him back into the lab. And that may not be for awhile…"

He peered closely at his granddaughter and noted that she didn't seem to be very concerned. That robot had been such a part of her life he had sometimes wondered if she preferred his company to anyone human. Given her lack of a social life…well, he had heard the jokes and speculation as to how "fully functional" the mechanical man really was.

But it would seem that her attention had been caught by a flesh and blood man for now. Even if it was just a passing infatuation, he was determined to do everything he could to encourage her socialization with a biological companion over that of a construct of circuits and steel.

And the thought that it might be with one of the four heroes who stopped the Lowardian Invasion was just icing on the cake!

A brunette woman disembarked from the plane and everyone turned to stare.

She was breathtaking. Gorgeous. Stunning. Tara had experienced a little tweak of jealousy when Dr. Porter emerged from the cabin. She couldn't help but wonder what she was doing with Ron.

Or what Ron might have been doing with her! _Stop it! Don't even be thinking that way right now! _

But if this woman was on the plane and Ron was conscious, she thought, he never would have given Pop-Pop's granddaughter a second look. Tara sighed. If she'd ever thought she had a chance with Kim gone, this pretty much torpedoed that little fantasy.

Cold comfort but at least she could enjoy how tweaked Bonnie was going to be when she found out.

The brunette turned around and held her arms up and out. A moment later an emergency gurney angled out through the exit door. Ron was strapped down with his arms tucked under the blanket, which was fortunate, as the wheeled cart was turned sideways as it angled around to the perpendicular in order to exit the smaller cabin.

The brunette took hold of the end of the gurney and held it above her head as the rest of the framework emerged. A beautiful black woman held the other end and, as she began to descend the steps, both moved in concert to keep Ron level and undisturbed as he was gently lowered to the ground. For just a moment Tara forgot about how depressing it was to see Ron in the company of three lovely women—not to mention injured and unconscious. Instead, having helped wrestle patients on gurneys through a variety of emergency situations these past few months the overriding thought in the forefront of her mind at that moment was: Holy crap! _These supermodels are some kind of freakin' strong!_

And then another hot blonde emerged from the plane.

**RSVP**

Jack Hench whistled as he stared at the floating throne. There was nothing like it in the Henchco catalog—although he knew he had seen something like it somewhere. Maybe he could get his R & D people to design something like it. He'd get someone on it right away.

"Gentleman," Mastermind said in that electronically distorted voice, "since you both asked to meet with me I thought I would schedule both meetings together to save time." The masked and hooded entity planted costumed elbows on the arms of the throne and laced gloved fingers together before that featureless mask hidden in the depths of the cowled hood. "What can I do for you?"

Big Daddy Brotherson glanced at Jack Hench as if to weigh his words but was too impatient to be discrete.

"You promised me Killigan!"

Mastermind's head inclined. "Indeed I did. I have not forgotten. The money you paid me was invaluable during the start-up phase of our plot."

"It's not _my_ plot," Brotherson corrected. I paid you more than six months ago and you still haven't delivered!"

Mastermind's head shook back and forth slowly. "I have promised three things to each of my associates. First: that I would create an environment where criminal enterprise could flourish by coordinating a portion of our efforts and resources with a ten-fold return. Second, that I would free you from the interference of Team Possible. Those two promises were universal and, for the most part, they are accomplished. The third promise is actually a number of different promises made to different associates. In your case, you wish me to turn Duff Killigan over to you—dead or alive, I recall—so that you might have your revenge."

"And I'm still waiting," Brotherson groused.

"I am not done with him, yet. While Team Possible has been neutralized for the better part of a year, their resurgence is _still_ possible—no pun intended. I require his services for just a little while longer. Then, once I am satisfied of a permanent solution to my second promise, I will turn him over to you, per our agreement."

"How much longer?" the big man demanded.

"That depends on how long it takes for one or both of them to surface."

"Well then," Jack Hench interjected, planting his own elbows on the table and steepling his fingers before his face, "it may be sooner than you think."

**RSVP**

Dr. Possible gave him a cursory examination and rechecked his vitals while Dr. Porter recounted the pertinent events leading up to Ron's exposure and subsequent comatose state.

Tara tried to take notes but was distracted by her friend's deathlike stillness and unhealthy pallor. She was only half-listening to the questions Dr. Possible asked from time to time until the story reached the point of Ron's retrieval.

"If the area was still too hot and contaminated to safely enter," Anne asked, "then how did you get him out so quickly?"

Dr. Porter hesitated. _This is T.J.'s wife and Kim's mother,_ she reminded herself: _if I can't tell her then who can I tell? Besides, as much as I'm starting to think of them as actual people, the B-bots are still machines: it's not like I'd hurt their "feelings" to call them such._ She took a deep breath and disclosed the actual nature of the three "women" hovering nearby.

Anne Possible's eyes narrowed as she learned that Bebe, Cece, and Dede were once three of Drakken's Bebe robots: she knew how much havoc those metal monsters had caused in the past.

Tara, however, felt a new rush of hope as she learned that the three women who had totally intimidated her as rivals for Ron's affections were nothing more than "pretty machines". At least she hoped that removed them from romantic consideration. She suddenly remembered finding Jason Morgan's blow-up sex doll under his bed and how that had cooled her romantic interests pretty damn quickly!

But even if Ron wasn't that way, there was still the matter of the hottie robotics expert. Tara's eyes narrowed as she watched Dr. Porter—much the same way Dr. Possible's eyes narrowed as she contemplated the trio of babe-bots.

Finally satisfied that Ron was stable enough to transport, Dr. Possible changed his IV and gave instructions on where to go and what to say when everyone reassembled at the hospital. Since the helicopter could only carry Ron, Tara, and Anne, the others would have to make the trip in Pop-Pop Porter's limo.

Oddly, the B-bots opted to make the trip on foot.

**RSVP**

"As you know," Jack Hench said, "I do some contracting work for the military on the side." He spread his hands and shrugged. "I know, I know, it goes against my ethics but a guy's gotta make a buck as best he can."

Big Daddy Brotherson was surprised. "How do you manage the Congressional oversight?"

"Oversight?" Hench laughed. "Please! That idiot Drakken is smarter than half of those bozos! What has the government managed over the past twenty years with any kind of a success rate? That's why they hire independent outfits for their technology, their security services, any kind of expertise…"

"Including a pair of of pesky teenagers to deal with super-villains and alien invasions," Brotherson mused.

The CEO of HenchCo nodded. "Anyways, I got a source over at the U.S. Naval base in Japan and guess who turned up at their hospital a couple of days ago?"

**RSVP**

Tara was going to be a problem.

She knew that going in. But four years of managing her best friend's social naiveté and keeping her away from Stoppable had made Bonnie overconfident. She had failed to factor in Ron's new status as world hero and the removal of Kim as a rival.

Now she had to figure out if she could still have it both ways: the rep of having an international heartthrob as a boyfriend while keeping Tara from hating her.

Of course, she had always known that if push came to shove, she'd never throw away the one good person in her life. Tara had had her back since Pre-K. And Stoppable—well, even if she was crazy enough to throw Tara under the bus to make a play for Ron, there was no guarantee—face it, better than even odds—_no, let's be honest here_—it was highly unlikely that Stoppable would have the slightest romantic interest in the Queen Bitch who had called him a loser for the last four years!

So, the only real option here was to apologize to Tara, convince her that she had no real interest in Kim's ex beyond a little pose to elevate her social status. And encourage the blonde to take her best shot. If Tara was still mad at her after that, she'd come around once Stoppable broke her heart, too. After all, a guy who's probably got his pick of any eligible woman on the planet wouldn't waste his time with any Middleton fare.

_Still…_

_It flew in the face of all logic and reason to hold out any hope…_

…_to give up any other thing…_

…_to invite the universe's scorn and derision…_

…_to actually put yourself out there in any way…_

…_on the off chance that Ron Stoppable would even deign…_

…_but still…_

Bonnie growled. "I am such a loser…"

"Got that right, Bon Bon," a horrifyingly familiar voice said.

"Connie!" she whispered.

And where one voice was, the other couldn't be far behind: "Glad you're finally with the program!"

"Lonnie!" she said between clenched teeth. "Go away!"

"Gladly," said Connie. "We've got more important things to do than hang out by the pool with some fat cow wearing last year's swimsuit."

"We were just being gracious hosts," Lonnie added. "You've got company…"

Bonnie snatched off her tanning goggles and saw her sisters standing over her. Both wore evil, soul-sucking smiles as they turned to walk away. She opened her mouth to try to get in a parting shot but nothing would come.

And then she remembered the phrase: _you've got company…_

She sat up in her lounge chair and found herself surrounded by a quintet of angry ex-cheerleaders.

"Bonnie," Marcella stepped forward and leaned down uncomfortably close to her face. "We need to talk…"

* * *

**ABOUT THE CHAPTER TITLE: "Triage" is a medical term describing the process of separating a number of sick and injured victims into three categories for treatment priorities. The concept of "three" is echoed in Ron's case with the number of robots and the number of human women involved in getting him to the hospital.**

* * *

**Author's/Notes****_: _**

_**As for which ships are gonna set sail and how many? The questions a newbie such as myself would ask are what constitutes a real ship (one-sided and unrequited? some flirting and maybe a little first base? or something more? and how much more)? Likewise, a harem? Your definitions, please…**_

**_Big Daddy Brotherson's property has seen more than one Killigan exploding golf ball. The first time was in the episode "Number One" when Duff makes his first appearance in the series. The second time is in the episode "October 31st" where a battle between Duff, Drakken, Shego, Kim, and Ron literally brings the building down. It isn't hard to see why he might harbor a grudge against Killigan. Especially if he was seriously injured by that skirt-wearin' madman._**

**_And, as I tally the reader votes for which "ship" our hapless hero should find himself in, a note to all you Kim Shippers out there: Settle down! Kim's not coming back…yet. _**

**_And, when she does, you may be sorry…mwu-ha-ha-ha!_**

* * *

**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 17**

vash3055 6/3/11 . chapter 17

ron harem

**Really/ A harem? Have you guys thought this through? Things could go very, very wrong…even wrongsick…hmmmm… R~13**

* * *

CajunBear73 6/3/11 . chapter 17

The sweepstakes for Ron's 'affections' seems to have grown larger in scope... Yeah Ron's going to have to join a monastery next door to Kim's Convent before this is over.

But Mastermind's plot is evolving and Hench's intel may start a harsh event in Middleton. But those B-bots may have something to say about that.

Still holding out for Ron to make his way to Kim as she makes her way back.

CB73

**_Pretty big wish you're putting out there, CB. Looks to me like there's a big game of spin-the-bottle setting up and Kim's nowhere to be seen. Can't play if you don't show up…_**

**_;-) _**

**_R~13_**

* * *

sh8ad8ow 6/3/11 . chapter 17

good chapter.

**_As always, much appreciated! R~13_**

* * *

Syxx 6/5/11 . chapter 17

Very cool fic here, really hope me kill some time. Looking forward to see what more lies ahead for Ron and all the others that are in is life. If you taking votes for the pairing, then I am going to with Ron/Betty, you really don't see that pairing at all. Later.

**_Ron/Betty (Retty? Rotty? Beton?) would be a definite challenge. On the other hand, I like challenges! R~13_**

* * *

pbow 6/26/11 . chapter 17

A quick question. Why are there no odds for a Ron/Tara hook-up in the Shipping Pool in chapters 17 & 18? (I'm catching up on the story since I fell behind due to real life.)

**_No one's cast their votes for that pairing, yet. Feel free to throw a vote Tara's way. R~13_**

* * *

lindon2 8/15/11 . chapter 17

ron/harem

**_Be careful what you wish for… R~13_**

* * *

Sentinel103 2/14/12 . chapter 17

Lemme see here, so Jack Hench is working with the Navy? Uh don't they know that he sorta plays with the bad guys? I mean even GJ isn't THAT clueless.

**_I suspect Jack Hench knows just whose palms to grease in Congress just like many other military contractors._**

Now Tara is faced with the 'hottie' Ron...well not really faced, since he's flat on his back...probably trying to not to upchuck if he comes to.

Now what's Marcella have to do with a Bonnie who's reconsidering her possible romance with Ron Stoppable...gee Rip are the potential suitors beginning to drop like flies already?

**_Well, you know that all these requests for a harem don't seem to take into account how that would really go over with some of the girls? (Selfless sharing is such a lost art)._**

And Big Daddy wants a piece of Killigan...what's he gonna do make that dress wearing fleabag wear trews (trousers) instead?

OK I've had my fun,

Larry (Sentinel 103)

**_As for Killigan? I imagine that Big Daddy has some kind of elegant revenge planned… R~13_**

* * *

Uberscribbler 12/9/12 . chapter 17

Will you PLEASE...

**_Oh dear, I've broken _****Uberscribbler****_ again... R~13_**

* * *

_Some Dude 8/25/13 . chapter 17 _

Holy cow! Don't tell me there are more!

**_Okay. I won't tell you. ;-) R~13_**


	18. Cheerless

**Required Disclaimer:** _This is a work of Fan Fiction and should not be construed to have any relationship to the actual Kim Possible universe. The story that is being told is for non-professional and non-profit purposes only._

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen – Cheerless**

"How long?" Marcella demanded.

Bonnie blinked and looked away. Unfortunately, wherever she looked there was another unhappy face staring back at her.

"H-how long what?" she asked nervously.

The summer after graduation had found them drifting apart. Middleton High and its Cheerleader responsibilities were behind them, now and when the fall came around, everyone was moving in new directions with new responsibilities. Bonnie and Tara had found making time to get together difficult enough. The others had become mostly fond memories as college got underway and finding jobs on the side took all of their free time.

This unexpected reunion seemed at odds with those "fond" memories.

"How long have you been seeing Ron Stoppable behind everyone's backs?" Marcella elaborated.

The lights went on in Bonnie's head. _Man_, _I thought the grapevine was fast in high school but this is really impressive! Of course, Stoppable has moved up the ladder, from local froob to international hero…_

"More importantly," Liz added, "how long have you been seeing him behind Kim's back?"

_Yeah, figures: the redheads would stick together._

"You played us, Bonnie," Jessica added. "You played us all!"

"Wait a minute," Bonnie protested. "So I'm dating Stoppable!" She cringed a little inside, hoping those words wouldn't get back to Tara. "What's it to you?"

"Four years," Hope grumbled, "for four years we had to listen to your insults and put-downs!"

"What? I never—you're my friends!"

"Not us," Crystal said. "Although I've often wondered what you've said about me when the other girls weren't around…"

Hope, Marcella, Liz, and Jessica all exchanged glances.

"…or any of the rest of us," Liz continued.

"We're talking about Kim," Marcella clarified.

"And Ron," Jessica added.

"Especially Ron!" Hope crossed her arms in front of her and glared.

Bonnie glared back. "I'm sorry but your point is…?"

Marcella's expression went from annoyed to exasperated. "Well…_you're_ dating him now!"

_Wow_, Bonnie thought: _déjà vu. Except, the rest of the girls weren't her best friends since Pre-K and she had more maneuvering room here than with Tara._ She lifted a hand and casually studied her nails. "Still waiting for the point, ladies."

Crystal was a Psych major now and a little better at articulating the "sitch" that had the girls in an uproar. "I think the issue for all of us is how _you_ convinced us that a guy who went around the world, saving people and battling super-villains, was _unworthy_ of our attention. Whenever any of us started to take an interest, you would point us toward some jock or hottie and tell us what a loser Ronnie was."

_Ronnie? Oh boy… _"So?"

"Well, it isn't right," Jessica whined. "We knew he was heroic years before the rest of the whole freakin' planet found out! I—that us, _we_—coulda had a chance with him!"

"Aren't you forgetting his girlfriend and her sixteen styles of kung-fu?" Bonnie smirked.

"She wasn't his girlfriend until Senior Year!" Marcella bellowed. "We could've hooked up on the way home from Camp Wannaweep!"

Bonnie appeared unfazed. "Which time? The first time or the second?"

"Does it matter?" Hope asked.

"Guess not," the former Queen B answered coolly, "seeing as how none of you made a move on either occasion. Or _any_ occasion as far as I can remember."

"Yeah…but…you…" Jessica was momentarily inarticulate.

"What about _your_ occasions, B?" Marcella snapped. "How about the time Ron was flashing the cash? Or the time you and he were elected Homecoming Queen and King?"

"Hey, at least I showed some interest then," Bonnie shot back. "You don't hear me whining about how 'Ronnie' slipped through my fingers."

"Because you've got your hooks in him now!" Liz accused. "You played us to keep the competition away until you got your chance. We know it. There's no denying it. I just wonder how you played Kim in all of this?"

"Which brings me back to my first question," Marcella sneered. "How long has Bon Bon been doing Ron Ron?"

"Was it before they both disappeared last Summer?" Hope asked. "Or are you keeping him in hiding now because, if Kim found out, you'd both be such dead meat?"

"Where is he?" Jessica had finally found her voice again. "I want—that is, _we_ want to see him!"

Bonnie waved her hands. "Let me get this straight." She looked at the faces of her former friends. "You're all tweaked that Stoppa—_Ron_—is _my_ boyfriend and not _yours_. One of yours, anyway, because he couldn't be everyone's boyfriend. Because that would be like a harem and I don't think there's any practical way for that to work…"

Marcella huffed: "It's that you manipulated us—"

"Oh, _please!_ Like none of you ever played dirty when it came to going after something or some_one_ that _you_ wanted!" Bonnie's tone was growing increasing scornful.

"You lied to us about Ron Stoppable for four years, Bonnie." Crystal was still trying to clarify the situation in rational terms. "Running a disinformation campaign for a couple of weeks is one thing but you had us convinced that Ron was a major loser for the better part of our teenage years!"

"And the guy you were calling a loser all that time was actually a hero!" Liz growled.

Bonnie's eyes grew wide in mock astonishment. "He was? Are you sure? How do you know for sure? Were you there on any of his missions?"

"We were all there at Wannaweep!" Hope practically shouted. "We saw him step up when teen hero Kim Possible and ex-Marine Steve Barkin were helpless captives like the rest of us! So we know how amazing and brave he is!"

Bonnie's smile grew to Cheshire Cat proportions. "So, I think I'm getting the picture, now. Not only are all of you tweaked that Ronnie is my boyfriend and not yours…you're all furious that he was right there, in front of you…unattached for three of those four years…AND…by your own admissions, you _knew_ that he traveled the world, saving people and fighting super-villains…you even _saw_ him in action with your own eyes…and yet you somehow want to excuse yourselves from being too bone-headedly dense and stuck-up to swoop in and take him for yourselves. Is that pretty much it?"

Jessica was back to: "But…he…you…food chain…"

"It was high school," Crystal tried to reason. "We were all young and gullible and subject to social pressure. Pressure that you—"

Bonnie held up her hand. "Sorry, C. So not buying the whole 'It's Bonnie's Fault' scenario. The only Middleton cheerleaders who made any attempt to step up during that time were Tara, Kim…and me. Tara never had the nerve to keep trying. Miss Perfect flamed out last year. And Ronniekins and I are more in simpatico now that we're older and more mature."

The five ex-cheerleaders just stood there and stared at Bonnie in dazed shock.

"Perhaps it's time for an apology?" she suggested.

"Oh, it's too late for you to apologize!" Marcella huffed. She turned and walked toward the door.

"I meant _to_ me!" Bonnie called after her.

"You can't hide him from us forever," Hope added, following Marcella toward the exit.

"And I'm curious as to what Kim's take will be on all of this," Liz pronounced, falling into line for the door.

Jessica was still trying to find her vocabulary so she just pointed at Bonnie and left.

Crystal, hesitated, seeming to want to speak to Bonnie alone.

She's majoring in Psychology, now, Bonnie thought. At least she can see reason and not get all emotional on me. "What is it, C? What did you want to say?"

The dusky, brown-haired girl walked up to her. "I don't seem to be able to find the right words, Bonnie. So…"

The slap came out of left field.

Literally.

Crystal was a southpaw.

**RSVP**

"A moment, Mr. Hench."

Big Daddy Brotherson had already left the room and Jack Hench was on his way having been debriefed by Mastermind on the prognosis and transport of Ron Stoppable back to Middleton.

"I need to purchase a certain Henchco product that seems to have disappeared from your website."

"Have you tried the Bargain Basement Closeout Page on our website?" Hench inquired. If it's not in our regular listings, we put the remainders there."

"It's not there," Mastermind answered in that grating, electronic voice. "Yet, I'm sure you have some stockpiled somewhere."

Hench waved his hands. "I doubt it. If I've got it, I try to sell it until it's gone, gone, gone!"

Mastermind interrupted him with the name of the item that was desired.

"What? Oh no. We don't offer that item anymore! And for a very good reason! Just ask your associate, there! But, if you're in the market for something similar—"

Mastermind made a gesture that silenced the criminal arms dealer instantly. "I'm afraid nothing else will do, Mr. Hench…"

**RSVP**

Vivian plugged her cell phone into the charger in the back of her grandfather's limo as they sped toward Middleton General Hospital. As she feared, her voicemail queue was full and she had running text messages that could equal the word count of the pulp novel _Kironbon_.

That's what you get when leading roboticists and cybernetics experts like herself and Drs. Bortel and Freeman were out of the country for a dozen days or so. Things wouldn't have stacked up so quickly at the Middleton Space Center if Dr. Renton hadn't gone missing a couple of months ago. And not only her but her son. And someone had said that her son's new girlfriend—that Justine Flanner girl—had gone AWOL, as well.

No other scientists had gone missing so maybe it was an isolated incident. But, just in case, perhaps she should consider getting Oliver rebuilt a personal priority.

There had been a lot of talk about how the disappearance of Kim Possible (AND Ron Stoppable, she reminded herself) had invited more incidents of criminal activity around the world. A girl couldn't be too careful…especially one that looked like her AND had top secret government access to special military projects AND was the granddaughter of the fifth richest man in the world. Her _Muay Thai_ workouts had given her some confidence in terms of some one-on-one self defense but her real security system was Oliver. Without her stainless steel bodyguard she was starting to feel vulnerable.

In more ways than one, she decided as she thought again about the young man she was hoping to save.

**RSVP**

Felix Renton sat up on his cot as he heard the sound of a key in the lock. The door to his cell swung open as he pulled the old, battered wheelchair against the thin mattress and swung into the lightly padded seat.

His mother entered, carrying a tray of delicious smelling food. "Felix, honey, are you okay?"

"Okay?" He shook his head in disbelief. "_Okay?_ That thug takes us prisoner and takes away my cyber-chair! I haven't seen you for days! I haven't seen Justine for weeks! And you ask me if I'm _okay?_"

Calm down, honey. I've got some good news!" She sat down on the cot and picked up a spoon off of the tray. "But you've got to keep your strength up so let me feed you while I tell you how we are going to get out of here."

Felix eyed his mother with a wary expression but didn't refuse the spoonful of mashed potatoes that she moved toward his mouth.

"This Mastermind fellow," she explained, "seems to be content with the modifications I've made to your cyber-chair. Now that that's done, he pretty much has what he wants and is ready to let us go."

"Sounds too good to be true," the young man observed around a spoonful of peas. "C'mon, Mom, I can feed myself, you know."

"Hush now and listen," Dr. Renton said, handing him a glass of milk. "The one thing that remains between us and freedom is a little thing, really."

Felix paused, the glass at his lips. "What little thing?"

"Well, he uses your chair like a flying throne and he's very happy with that part—"

"Oh great!" he said…in a tone that meant just the opposite.

"—but he knows that there are cybernetic systems that are locked from his use and he wants the passwords to unlock them."

"Mom!"

She pushed a bite-sized piece of steak on a fork at him. "It's not like we're compromising national security to give him the pass codes, Felix. It's a privately owned cyber-chair that this guy is stealing from us. He already has the chair in his possession. Once he lets us go, I can go back to the lab and send out an override command rendering the chair inoperative. So what's the harm in humoring him for a day or so?"

Felix Renton stared at his mother. "I might ask you the same question?"

The strawberry blonde expert in Advanced Cyber Robotics looked back at her son and then glanced down at the food tray. "What do you mean?"

"I mean…you know the passwords, too. Why haven't you given them to this weirdo?"

"I—I thought you changed them," she answered.

"Nope."

"Oh," she said, "well then…I forgot."

"Forgot?"

His mother nodded. "Forgot…them…"

Felix stared at the woman intently. "You're not my mother. Where is she?"

The woman looked back up and then flung the tray across the cell. Her short, strawberry blonde hair suddenly grew out and turned a whiter shade of pale and she grew thinner and younger. "Fine!" she shouted. "Take a few more days to think about it. And think about whether you ever want to see your real mother again!"

Camille Leon stalked out of the cell and slammed the door behind her.

Felix tried to turn his wheelchair and roll toward the door but the chair was an old, broken down manual device that was fifty years out of date. "Where's Justine?" he screamed. "What have you done with her?"

**RSVP**

"Sister Justine!"

The young woman laid aside the scrub brush and carefully rose to her feet so as to not trip over her skirts. Or kick the bucket of sudsy water she was using to scrub the entry hall floor. "Yes, Reverend Mother?"

"Come with me, my child. Let us walk in the garden."

"But Reverend Mother, I am not done with this task. And what if someone slips on the wet stones before I return?"

"Do not fret, child. The halls and foyer are scrubbed every other day whether they need it or not. Everyone here is always careful when they walk."

The young woman bowed her head in acquiescence and followed after the head of the nunnery.

"Do you know why the floors are scrubbed every other day, my child?"

"Because cleanliness is next to Godliness?"

The old woman began to chuckle. "Oh, that's good! I like that! And…it's not untrue." She sighed softly. "But more importantly it affords us all the opportunity to meditate as we perform a simple, otherwise mindless, task."

"We, Reverend Mother?"

"Not just the novitiates, Justine, but the nuns, as well. Even I take my turn—though my knees prevent me from doing more than a room or two. It is one of the reminders that no one is too great nor any service too small for us all to be equals in God's work."

The young woman nodded. "It is…humbling."

"I'm sure it is. Especially for you, Justine." They came to a bench under a trellis covered in creeping vines. The old woman sat and patted the space next to her.

Justine sat and watched a parade of nuns headed to afternoon matins like a row of orderly penguins.

"You were a proud young woman," the leader of the order said to her softly. "I have seen many young women come to us over the years. More than a few of them leave us before progressing to the point where they would take their sacred vows. The ones who stay are those who have set aside their pride and their egos and have embraced the ways of our order."

"And you believe that I have too much pride to be a good nun, Reverend Mother?"

The old woman stared across the convent grounds, though she seemed to focus on nothing in particular. "As I said before, you _were_ a proud young woman. But something has crushed that pride. You have been humbled by something...but I do not know that it is the grace of God that brings you to your knees." She turned to the young woman. "Do you remember the day I told you that some seek to enter here because they are running away from something but that those who would take holy orders must, instead, be running _toward_ something?"

"Toward God," Justine said.

"Good. You remember. Well, pride is something similar. Your pride—the selfish and self absorbed aspects of it, anyway—must be surrendered. It is your gift to God of yourself. If you come to Him with no pride because you have lost it or someone has taken it from you, then it is totally different."

"What do you mean?" the young woman asked.

"It is the difference between a soldier kneeling before his commander and offering up his sword in service…and an unarmed captive being dragged before his master and forced to serve because he is not strong enough to escape. Do you see the difference, Justine?"

"Reverend Mother…" Justine seemed at a loss for words. "…it sounds like you don't want me here…"

The old woman embraced the young woman. "Oh, my child. I want you to be here for the _right reasons_. And yet I feel that you cannot choose properly until your mind is cleared of any fears and confusion that may beset you. Won't you tell me why you are really here?"

The young woman bowed her head lower and began to weep.

**RSVP**

The Uptopian assassin looked up from the comm screen as the Commander entered the room.

"As you were," the Black-Ops director told his subordinate and sat down in a chair across the table from his hand-picked agent.

"I've reviewed all of the files that I've been given, sir, and I still have questions."

The commander sighed. "We all have questions, Captain. This will constitute a first-contact scenario with an alien species. A lot of unknowns all around."

"Yes sir. It's just—I'm wondering about epidermal coloration. These Earthians seem to come in different hues. The Lowardians are green. We're blue. But these aliens are pink and black and brown and varying shades of cinnamon and saffron. None, however are green. Or blue."

"Except for the target," the commander reminded.

"Yes…well…him. The thing is—based on the Lowardian vids—he's not always blue. Only when he goes into berserker mode does he turn blue. And then he appears to be surrounded by a blue glow, as well."

"If you're asking me how—"

"No sir. I guess I'm asking if the rest of his race—whatever color they appear to be while in dormancy—can become blue and fight at such a level, as well?"

The commander spread his hands. "We have asked this question as well. There was no such recorded incident among the other Earthians during the hostilities—although there was an entry in Warmonga's journal about another alien that she encountered who fought like a berserker. Her skin and glow were green, however, and the Lowardian noted that she was quickly overcome with little difficulty. She also mentioned one other alien who's epidermal covering was blue. She initially believed that he might be 'The Big Blue' of Lowardian prophecy but discovered that he neither glowed nor seemed to possess any other supernatural abilities than—what did she call it? Oh yes: the Power of Annoyance."

"And this other Blue Man—he is not related to the target?"

"Not as far as we can tell, Captain."

"So, the Lowardians determined that this other alien was not The Big Blue of their…mythology. What about the target?"

Again the commander spread his hands. "Clearly, the Lowardians were taken by surprise when his powers manifested. If he is their Big Blue, they didn't know it until it was too late and they seriously pissed him off. Something to keep in mind when you approach the target, yourself."

The Uptopian agent nodded. "You know…we are about the same color as the target when he is in blue mode. Does that give us—that is, _me_—an advantage in getting close to him?"

"Perhaps. If the timing is right. However, Captain, The Council feels it best if you conceal your identity with a spectroscopic field emitter so that you can pose as one of the Earthian races. We don't know how many other aliens you will have to interact with before you can assess and approach the target. I have back-up assassins ready for insertion once we reach Earth but, if you fail or are compromised, it will make it that much harder for the others to finish the job."

**RSVP**

The B-bots were waiting beside the hospital helipad as the Life Flight ambulance touched down. The patient that was unloaded was unidentifiable as Dr. Possible had loosely wrapped his head with gauze bandages. As Ron was whisked inside a largish man watched from an automobile sitting in the Emergency Room parking lot.

"Don't worry, Pepe," he told the small, shivering Chihuahua on the passenger seat beside him. "We can go now. Daddy will feed you yummy treats when we get back to the hover-lair…"

* * *

**ABOUT THE CHAPTER TITLE: "Cheerless" might be the mood to describe Ron's situation right now. It might also be an accurate description of Bonnie being deserted by her former Mad Dog cheerleader friends in this chapter.**

* * *

**Authors/Notes:**

_**The opening scene wasn't just to draw some battle lines in the cheerleader competition for Ron Stoppable but to visit the whole "denial" issue back in high school. Sure, Kim got all the glory and the press couldn't even get Ron's name right. But he still went all over the world and helped fight super-villains. Two trips to Camp Wannaweep gave the cheerleaders a front-row seat to Ron's abilities and, yet, the only one who showed him any respect was Tara. I wrote the first scene in this chapter as a homage to that little disconnect between the cheerleaders and Ron and had twice as much fun having Bonnie be the one to tweak them for it.**_

**_When I polled the readers regarding the specific "ship" during the first posting of these chapters, there seemed to be a slight majority in favor of a "harem." If that were to be the case here, it's not looking like any of the other harem stories I've read so far. Nobody seems that keen about sharing and I don't see any group orgies on the near horizon._**

**_Of course, we've got a ways to go..._**

**_Riplakish13_**

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**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 18**

_snake1980 6/5/11 . chapter 18_

all i can say is damn. now everyone is going after ron cant wait to see how this all plays out in the near future. keep up the great work.

**_I can't wait either! R~13_**

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_Feudor 6/6/11 . chapter 18_

Hey! Great story! I'm really looking forward to reading more!

You write well, and the story is nicely paced. I'm curious as to what happened to Kim, of course, but perhaps more interested in the female planets circling around the Ron sun.

My bet or hope is for either Shego (so OK, it's been done before...) or Tara.

As to the quizz on the street name, I think I got it before you published the James Mason clue, but that sort of nailed it.

I had to google it, though, so I'm not sure it counts as a genuine answer.

So I will not just out and say it. I'll just say - Mount Rushmore?

**_Well, yes…sorta. Mount Rushmore figures prominently in the movie. R~13_**

* * *

_CajunBear73 6/6/11 . chapter 18_

Quite the affair with Bonnie and her ex-friends. She got a pop she deserved for so many years too.

Those plans of Mastermind seem to be getting darker still as he contemplates Hench's little toy to 'adjust' Ron to his will.

"Sister Justine's" about to spill, huh? Hope this helps her figure out her place in the world. And on terms that are right for her and of where she is.

A little light shed on one person and the possibility of the other two, who might be in the employ of Mastermind.

And now it seems that Sheldon's scoping out the next battle for his Ron-factor.

CB73

**_The planets are beginning to align… R~13_**

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_inkykenrd 6/8/11 . chapter 18_

If the bettings still on i want to place my money on Ron ending up alone trying to find himself as his life as always been heavily influenced by the women in his life.

**_Wow. I mean, wow! I've actually toyed with this idea! But now I'm afraid that my readers would actually hunt me down and kill me! But still… _**

**_And it's not like I'm going to make most of them happy, anyway. R~13_**

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_Sentinel103 2/14/12 . chapter 18_

Crystal's a lefty? Bon-Bon you gotta block those...always have that lead hand up...Oh sorry done wayy too much sparring ya know. Now lemme see crimony EIGHT cheerleaders? Blink blink, Viv, Amelia, Shego, Bets along with Yori with one in the oven? Holy...Ronnie boy I don't know I don't think that even being a conservitive Mormon is gonna be in the cards with all the estrogen that's going to be floating around you...

And one of them now knows...I wonder how long its going to be before the feeding frenzy starts? LOL

Larry (Sentinel 103)

**_C'mon, you make it sound more complicated than it really is! I only count 7 cheerleaders at this point. (lol!) Of course, we don't know if Kim will want back in or what the two alternates, Maggie & Linda, will have to say. R~13_**

* * *

_Uberscribbler 12/9/12 . chapter 18_

...quit with the avalanche routine?! I'm feeling positively crushed...crushed I tell you!...by the sheer number of revelations, complications, reversals, reveals, and out and out and out looney-tooney-plotooney-twistooney...things you write.

Yes, I'm getting seriously tonge-tied. You're making me sputter in shock with each new section. I can't begin to imagine how seriously Ron's brain is going to get twisted up once he realizes what's happening around him.

And now that we're 18 chapters in (with a promised body-count still in the offing), can we *please* see the Stoppable 'rents' reaction? The Han isn't likely to be easily restrained after this, either, but at least the 'rents should be able to express themselves in coherent sentences.

Unlike this reviewer, who isn't likely to sleep well tonight. The imagery from chapter 10 and 11 (I'm dense enough to think that really was KP, and yet paranoid enough to think that's what the author wants us to think) isn't easily dislodged.

Awaiting the next snowflake.

**_What can I say? The Stoppables have been out of the country. But they are headed for home, now. Though we're still a few chapters out from the Possible-Stoppable confab._**

**_And Kim's around. If you haven't figured it out, yet, I'll be dropping more clues soon (though not necessarily in the next chapter…) R~13_**

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_ichuckikillu112 6/29/13 . chapter 18 _

this story IS kinda being set up to be a harem fic, you know that, right? I mean with Betty de-aging and Joss getting more mature you have to realize you might be setting up all the pro-harem fans on the hope you might consider it. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE this story, BUT with all the SHIT you're putting your protagonist through, PLUS all the dropped hints on all the females going after the same dude, it might be better to let him going for more than one, and if you have the imagination that I hope you do, you'll make it work in the long. Hell you might even be able to colaberate with some other writer to search for some ideas.

**_Well, to tell the truth, I was only looking to stir up some interest among the ladies in general before settling down to explore two or three relationships at best. It was the early reviews and PMs that keep moving the boundaries. The question remains: can a multiple "girlfriend" arrangement truly work and be believable? And permit intimacy without mayhem and bloodshed? I will only admit to having a plan._**

**_And one or two backup plans... R~13_**

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_Some Dude 8/25/13 . chapter 18 _

I feel conflicted about the aliens. I think they're a good idea( plot wise), but I also feel like you're already doing too much.

**_Yeah, I know what you mean. But it's only going to get more complicated soon... R~13_**

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**_commandosquirrel chapter 18 . 7/10/14_**

uptopians, lowardians will there be a mid something group

_**Sure: Middle Earth. The aliens will have large, hairy feet...oh, wait-that's a different story!**_

_**I was sort of going with the idea that earth was sort of in the middle of these two alien races and, therefore... R~13**_


	19. Ablutions

**Author's/Notes****_  
_**

**_Again, I'd like to remind everyone that this story is rated "M" although it is not as "lemony" as number of other stories in here. In fact, I've read some "T" rated pieces that are far more "citrusy" than this one, so far. (New to fanfic but slowly learning the lingo) Still, I like having the room to go where the story goes and I figure I ran off 90 percent of my readers with Chapter One so who knows how long before I really go off the reservation? You have been warned…again… -R~13_**

* * *

**Required Disclaimer:** _Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley are the true creators of Kim Possible. I make no money here and am not the one you seek. (Jedi hand gesture) Move along…_

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen – Ablutions**

Exiting the terminal, Shego and Betty found the lines three-deep by the curb, waiting for taxis.

The head of Global Justice fumed at the prospect of waiting another forty-five minutes for a ride to GJ headquarters. She could call for a GJ driver to come out and pick them up but that would take thirty minutes at the least. And the nearest underground transport tube was a twenty minute walk away. (Whose bright idea had that been? Oh yeah: Du!) So she was wrestling with the idea of flashing her badge and commandeering a vehicle.

She was weighing the hours of paperwork that would ensue when she noticed that her traveling companion had wandered off.

Betty finally caught up with Shego as she reached the end of the white zone, away from the arriving and departing passengers.

"And where do you think that you're going?"

The pale woman with black hair turned with a tired frown. "Home. You?"

"The hospital," Betty answered. "I'm surprised that's not your first stop, as well."

"Betts, I can't remember my last hot bath." Her nose wrinkled. "And I'm betting that you can't either. My hair is a mess, my clothes need to be burned and the ashes buried. Hospitals insist on sterile environments so no one is going to let me in to see Stoppable in my current condition. More importantly, I don't want him waking up and seeing me like this! It would scare him back into a coma or maybe even a heart attack! So I'm going home, first, to make myself more presentable—or, at least less disgusting—and I'll see you at the hospital later."

A shadow fell over them and an electronic rumble grew in volume. A grey-blue hovercraft set on autopilot settled down at the curb, next to them. A remote chirped in Shego's hand and a door popped open on the side.

"Can I drop you somewhere?" she asked the one-eyed woman.

**RSVP**

Dr, Possible had run every test she could think of, short of exposing her patient to an X-ray machine or risking an MRI.

Ron Stoppable's vital signs had stabilized and were growing stronger along with signs of accelerated brainwave activity. He was emitting increasingly lower levels of radiation and was deemed safe for prolonged human contact, now.

But he remained unconscious and unresponsive.

Now that the privacy curtain was up, she had removed the bandages that had concealed his identity while she checked him in under an assumed name. The Chief of Staff and the Chief Administrator had been informed, of course, but they had agreed to keep the rest of the staff out of the loop to avoid the security problems that came with such a high profile patient.

She stroked his hair in a motherly fashion, surprised at the unmotherly thoughts that were beginning to murmur in the back of her mind. Her physical examination of her patient had turned up a number of old scars and injuries: obvious wounds from the missions he had gone on with her daughter. Wounds and scars that Kimmie had been able to avoid. _Why not Ron?_ Was he really that careless and clumsy? Or had he put himself in harm's way too many times to protect her daughter from the greater risk or damage?

She suspected the latter as she had observed him do just that on more than one occasion.

She also noticed that another growth spurt had taken him into the six-foot range. He had lost his baby fat, packing on additional pounds of muscle. For the most part it was lean muscle mass, though his chest and shoulders had broadened and a fine spray of golden hair across his pectorals made him look older than his nineteen years. She reached down and ran the back of her hand across the coarsening stubble on his cheeks. Ron Stoppable was definitely yummy.

_Wait! Where did that come from?_

Anne shook her head. She was tired. Worrying about her daughter for the better part of a year. Worrying about her husband and his increasingly distant behavior…

Her lips set in a hard line: no excuses! If she needed to de-stress, she'd start going back to the gym. The Global Justice gym. Get back in shape and redirect her growing hostilities in manner more constructive and destructive. She hoped those GJ "trainers" had comprehensive medical…

"What can I do, Doctor?" Tara asked, again.

The redheaded doctor turned from her patient's bedside and took the blonde paramedic aside. "Ronald needs to be kept under around-the-clock observation until he's conscious. Maybe well beyond that. I can't do it, myself. No one person can do that, themselves. Normally, a patient on a twenty-four hour watch would have the benefit of the shared services of the hospital's nursing staff. But I'm afraid if we do that, word will get out that Ron's a patient here. We're not equipped to provide that kind of security and I wouldn't want to draw the wrong peoples' attention while he's so vulnerable."

"Excuse me, Dr. Possible…" Vivian spoke from the other side of Ron's hospital bed. "The B—er, ladies, here, can watch him around the clock. If you'll help me program them, they'll be nearly as effective as most secondary medical technicians. They'll also provide security and, since they don't sleep, they don't have to be relieved."

Anne glanced at the trio of artificial women and gave the suggestion some thought. "I'm willing to see how that works. But I'll want a human back-up for the first day or two. Tell me, Dr. Porter, what is your level of involvement here?"

"Level of involvement?" Vivian asked.

"He's practically a member of my family," Anne elaborated. "He's my daughter's…" She almost said boyfriend. "…fiancé."

Vivian shook her head in confusion. "I'm sorry. I was given to understand that they had broken up and gone their separate ways last summer." Unconsciously, she had taken his right hand in hers and caressed it ever so slightly. "We don't have much in the way of details but Global Justice believes he was married while he was in Japan and lost his wife in the earthquake. The first hospital removed his wedding ring when he was brought in with Shego."

_Shego?_ Anne didn't like the sound of that even if the fiery villainess was an ally now. _Especially if she was an ally, now! _She went back to the bed and pulled Ron's left hand out from under the covers. She saw, now, what she had missed during her original examination: a band of pale flesh encircling the base of his ring finger. With a start, she realized how rough his hands were. _Boy has been doing some serious manual labor._ For the briefest of moments she imagined how those work-hardened hands would feel on softer, more sensitive flesh.

_Holy crap! Where had _that_ come from? _

Oh, a certain trio of gym louts were so going to pay for her inappropriate flights of fancy!

She leaned over and pulled up one of Ron's eyelids.

Ron's normally brown iris was blue!

And it seemed to glow with an inner light!

She turned and raised a shaky hand to her brow. "I need to go home for a while. Who wants to take the first shift?"

**RSVP**

Betty took the detachable shower head and ran the pulsating spray across her shoulders, sluicing soap down her torso in sheets of foamy bubbles. The hot water felt wonderful on her tired, aching muscles and she wasted a few extra minutes luxuriating in the sensations of penetrating warmth and slippery, silky skin. As she made sure there was no soap left behind in those inevitable folds of flesh, she made another pleasant discovery: the "girls" were feeling a bit perkier today!

Actually, they had seemed a little more "buoyant" for the past couple of days, now. In fact, she felt a little "lighter" all over. At first she had chalked it up to being light-headed from lack of sleep. But the shower had refreshed her and now she suspected the feeling came from actually being lighter. The stress and non-stop activities of the past couple of weeks had probably helped her drop some stubborn pounds.

As she used her free hand to lave the soapy water down toward her legs, she cupped her belly below her navel. Betty Director was more fit and toned than a number of her subordinates fifteen years her junior. But the last three years or so had seen a slight rounding begin to emerge; a very slight swell that her lovers thought very sexy and womanly but she felt marked the beginning of her decline.

Startled, she returned the showerhead to its cradle and ran both hands up and down from her breasts to her thighs. Shutting off the water, she stepped out of the enclosure and went to the sink. Even with the exhaust fan pulling the moist air out of the bathroom she had to work the towel over the mirror repeatedly before she could get a visual confirmation of what her hands told her.

Her belly was as flat as a board.

As her fingers traced the faint indentations of her reemerging _rectus abdominis_, she noticed another absence...

_Her appendectomy scar from two years ago was gone, as well!_

**RSVP**

The door opened on the third round of knocking and a very tired-looking African American girl peered out at her visitor. "Crystal? Ah, sorry. I must've fallen asleep." She opened the door wider and gestured for the dusky brunette to enter the tiny, cramped apartment.

Crystal stepped inside and noted the rumpled blanket and pillow on the sofa. "Zita making you sleep on the couch?" she asked with a smile.

Monique moved the makeshift bedding so they could both sit. "Since my student aid got cut and I lost my job, I'm lucky to not to be sleeping out on the streets," she said. "Zita's been nice enough to let me crash here for a while but I can't impose indefinitely. Besides, T.N.R.T.W.H!"

Crystal looked around, taking in the portable sewing machine and the bolts of fabric and half finished articles of clothing scattered around. "Let me guess: 'There's No Room To Work Here'?"

Monique grinned. "Didn't I just say that?"

"Oh, well, were you able to finish—"

"Got it right here," Middleton's Number One Fashion Maven answered. She picked up an old hatbox at the end of the sofa. Opening it, she pulled out a brassiere. Originally constructed of black fabric and cut in a deep décolleté to display more cleavage, it was now covered in sequins and faux gems and trimmed with fringe and bands of seed pearls."

Crystal took the bra and held it up, examining it from all angles. "Damn, girl! This is even better than I expected!" Then she frowned. "The colors will work with the bottom of my costume but I really should have you do the belt and the skirt, too." She looked up at Monique and smiled. "Are you interested in another commission?"

The black girl laughed. "A.Y.K.M? I need all of the work I can get. The only problem is I can't spread out like I need to so my projects take about twice as long these days."

Crystal had a thought. "I might have a temporary fix for that. My dad has some property near the college that he's pretty much given up on moving until the economy turns around. It's an old warehouse that was being converted into office space until the company went belly-up. He might let me have the keys and let you keep your—ah—project materials there for a while. Several weeks, at least."

Monique reached over and hugged the former cheerleader. "Thanks, girl! Y.T.B!"

Crystal hugged her back and then said: "But it's going to cost you something."

Monique studied her face. "Another commission? Depends on the cost of the materials."

"Oh, I'll pay for the materials and your time. You just make sure it's every bit as stunning as my work-clothes."

"What are you wanting?"

"Something for a guy…" Her blue eyes took on a far-away look. "Something that will get his attention…and not let go!"

Monique grinned. "Well, I could do something generic. But if you want it to be really effective, I'll have to know something about him: what he likes, what he doesn't, hobbies, interests—a little insight into what turns the wheels inside his head."

"Crystal shrugged. "You know him better than I do. It's Ron Stoppable…Monique? _Monique!_"

**RSVP**

Mrs. King opened the door and smiled at the young woman on her front porch. "Why hello, Bonnie! Are you looking for Tara?"

"Yes ma'am. I ran by her apartment. Is she here?"

"Why, no. They called her into work, today. Her day off, of all days! Something unusual, I gather, as she just called me and asked me to bring her overnight bag up to the hospital for her. I guess she's spending the night."

"If you like," Bonnie told her, "I'll run it up there for you. I was hoping to have a word with her."

"Well, aren't you nice? Let me get it for you. Did something happen to your face?"

The teal-eyed brunette raised a hand to the faint bruise on her cheek. "It's nothing. I was mowing the lawn and a tree branch slapped me in the face."

"Oh my goodness! I hope you're all right!" Mrs. King said, choosing to not point out that, this early in the spring, lawn-mowing stories were somewhat suspect.

"It's nothing, Mrs. K. My fault for not paying attention. Where can I find Tara?"

"I wrote it down. I'll get it for you along with her bag. She told me not to tell anyone else but I'm sure she won't mind my telling you since you're looking for her anyway."

Bonnie's hand crept under her shirt as her best friend's mother went off to fetch the suitcase and the note. Playing with the recently acquired "dangle" hanging from her new navel piercing, Bonnie began to grin: Tara King keeping secrets? What an intriguing sitch for "Miss Bland." Maybe it would give her a little leverage in making Tara keep Bonnie's secret in return…

"Here you go hon. And I hope you'll be more careful in the future when you're…doing yard work."

Bonnie's mouth turned up in that terrible smile that had struck dread throughout Middleton High, for freshmen and seniors, alike

"Oh, I'm paying a lot more attention, now, ma'am. And going to start doing some pruning real soon!

And, with a wave, she turned and practically skipped back to her sports car.

**RSVP**

When Betty Director stepped out of the bathroom, her towel was draped around her neck instead of across her torso. "Sheila, do you notice anything different about me?"

Shego was almost totally submerged in the Jacuzzi, having showered and shaved and plucked and groomed before her guest. She sat up suddenly splashing water across the floor. "Jeez, Betts! What's with the peep show? Ya think I got a yen to stare at other people's lady-parts?"

Betty smirked. "Well there was that time down in Mexico—"

"Once! Years ago! Spring break! We were both drunk! Everybody experiments in college!"

"I wasn't in college," Betty teased.

"Coulda fooled me! In fact, that's just what you did! What kind of law enforcement agency sends its officers on R and R to a resort where thousands of college students are partying out of their minds before finals? No wonder there's rumors!"

Betty arched an eyebrow. "Rumors? No one knows about that time down in Cancún."

"They don't have to go back that far. Both of us are considered hot. Neither of us have boyfriends. Our careers tend to draw us into situations where we come off a lot more butch than our male counterparts. Every time we're in a GJ briefing meeting I can look over at Du and practically read his mind."

Betty laughed. "I know. It's easy to pick on Will but he's probably pretty normal in that respect. A lot of guys seem to have fantasies involving two women together." She pulled an evil grin. "And not just guys…"

Shego growled. "Now cut that out! And tell me what I'm supposed to be looking at so I can get it over with!"

Betty lifted the towel away from her body. "We've shared a locker room before—by the way, nice lair…"

"Thanks. I needed something to keep up my cover for GJ. It's one of our older ones. Too small for Doctor D's tastes but just right for me."

"With plenty of hot water," Betty enthused.

"It was the deciding factor," Shego smirked.

"So, we've shared a locker room on more than one occasion…"

"Are you suggesting I've been checking you out?"

"Everyone looks, Sheila. What I'm asking is if you notice anything different about me?" She turned slowly.

Shego frowned again. "What'd you do? Get injections? Of helium? Your ass looks like it's a couple of inches higher, now."

Betty continued to turn with her arms out.

"And what's wrong with your nipples? _Are those piercings? _Betts, you're such a freak!"

The one-eyed woman shrugged. "What's the difference between your piercings and mine? Other than the fact that I've got seven and you've got just one?"

"Bellybutton rings are so common that—did you say _seven?_"

Betty smiled. "I'll show you later if you like…"

"Will you _stop?_" Shego's hands strayed to her breasts. "_I_ couldn't do it. I'd be over-stimulated."

"That's pretty much the point, I think. But seriously. I've been getting this little streak of premature grey over the past year." She touched the front of her garnet-colored hair.

Shego leaned forward and squinted. "And you haven't colored it?'

Betty shook her head.

"No Botox? Not that you needed it, yet."

"No."

"You look like you've been working out. And getting a lot more sleep than me."

"I always work out. But you've racked up more bunk time than me, lately."

Shego leaned back and closed her eyes, willing her aching body to enjoy the pulsating jets of hot water for these last few minutes before she had to dress and head for the hospital. "I'll bite, Betts: what's your secret?"

"I have no idea!"

**RSVP**

Anne Possible had enjoyed (if that was the word) a hot shower just a few hours ago at the Global Justice training facilities. When she had excused herself from the hospital to take another shower, she was thinking along the lines of a cold one.

The house, when she returned to it, was quiet. Too quiet, she thought. Her husband was still AWOL and she wondered which was worse: his physical absence or the emotional absence when he was present. The latter seemed to underscore the house's emptiness—and hers—even more.

The twins could be anywhere on a Saturday and there was no telling when they would be back.

She wished that she had someone to talk to.

She picked the phone book and scanned the yellow pages for martial arts classes. Impulsively, she called a dojo and signed up for a membership. It was uncharacteristically impulsive of her and she felt like another person had invaded her and was living just beneath her skin.

She went upstairs and undressed slowly, straightening up the bedroom as she disrobed. Picking up a pair of panties that were halfway under the bed, she was shocked to discover that they were not hers.

She held them up and examined them. A woman's undergarment, certainly, but not her own and a size smaller than what she wore. With another start she realized that she was holding lingerie, not underwear—a subtle difference in one sense, a huge and terrible implication in another. The sheer, French-cut concoction of doily and floss would be too impractical and too uncomfortable to be worn for long. And, indeed, that was part of the purpose of its design: to invite removal at the earliest opportunity.

Which begged the questions: _when_ was that opportunity, _why_ her bedroom, and to _whom_ did they belong?

She did not sit down on the bed so much as collapse on it as her legs turned rubbery and gave out from under her.

She had lost her daughter.

Some days she felt as though the twins were slipping away.

And now she had lost her husband.

Dr. Anne Possible had never felt so lost, herself.

For awhile she just sat on the edge of the bed and let the emptiness take her.

But not for long.

Anne was a fighter. A disciplined surgeon. An accomplished woman. A fiercely committed parent. She had decisions to make. Things to do. She needed to pull herself together.

_She_ needed to.

No one else was there for her, now. She would have to think and do for herself.

About what to do about her husband, her marriage?

Leave him?

Divorce him?

Fight for him?

It felt like she had been fighting to hold onto him for a year, now.

James was not a "passionate" man. As a scientist and an engineer, he seemed to approach all aspects of life like analytical projects or problems to be solved. _She_ was the romantic. She was the one who brought the innovation and boundary-pushing to the marital bed. His participation could be plodding, even perfunctory at times. She had learned not to mind so much: she loved him, after all.

Which made this even more unexpected.

Made it feel like a greater betrayal.

So.

Did she want to fight for him? _Keep on_ fighting for him?

Did she want to stay together for the children?

Kim was gone. The twins were actually genius enough to test out of high school right now and had been offered scholarships that could have them out of the house and off to college in the fall.

Did she want to fight to keep him for herself?

Still?

Whatever remained of the passion she had once felt seemed to evaporate in the heat of her anger.

Yes, she still loved him—or cared about him, anyway.

Maybe enough to let him go.

If he wasn't happy with her, she could at least love him enough to let him go to someone who could make him happy.

Slowly, like a reanimated dead thing, she rose and freed herself from the last restraints of clothing. Then, zombie-like, she walked into the shower and screamed as the first burst of cold water stung her skin. She continued to scream as the water warmed up and finally gave way to quiet sobbing as she leaned forward and let the water turn her hair into a curtain of crimson around her face.

She had no one, now. No one to comfort her.

So, slowly, hesitantly, she began to comfort herself.

There was soap and lotion and hot, hot water. She embraced herself, hugging the hurt. Caressed her flesh, stroking trembling fingers over slippery soft skin. She touched the hidden places, the secret parts…those parts of her that few had seen, only one other had known, and only she could bring to their full, intimate potential.

Sobs turned to gasps. Her chest heaved. Her belly began to flutter.

She suddenly thought of freckles…and brown eyes turned blue...

When she screamed again it sounded very different than before.

**RSVP**

The little man was kneeling on the floor, his hands clutching at the helmet that encased most of his head. "Nein! Nein! No more!" he begged.

Mastermind gestured to the grayish blue skinned woman in the electric bodysuit and she adjusted something in her hands.

The floating throne drifted closer and then settled on the floor in front of the sallow-skinned villain. "I grow weary of your excuses. How hard is it to find a nineteen-year-old girl?"

"She iss not chust any yung gurl," Dementor gasped.

"I know that, you Teutonic twit! Why do you think I captured her in the first place?"

"But it vas not me who let her escape mit der _transdimensional vortex inducer!_"

"No. He's been punished in a most appropriate manner…" Mastermind paused as the memory returned of Motor Ed's screams. It had taken six henchmen to hold him down while his head was shaved…

"So vhy am I beink punished?"

"Because you've had more than enough time to find her! I need that girl for my master plan!"

"I thought you needet der _transdimensional vortex inducer!_"

"Demends? Is it even possible for you to say the words 'transdimensional vortex inducer' without yelling them at the top of your lungs?"

The little man cocked his helmeted head with a quizzical expression. "Do I really do that?"

Mastermind's fists clenched. "Just find them both! And Demends, she must be taken alive! I need Justine Flanner able to work on my _Operation: Reboot_ program!"

* * *

**ABOUT THE CHAPTER TITLE: "Ablutions" is a formal term to describe the washing of one's own body and sometimes used in a ceremonial context. In this chapter there's a whole lot of washing going on...**

* * *

**Authors/Notes 2:**

**_Feudor has won the 1st RSVP "You're All That!"Award by finally coming up with the correct answer to the Quiz at the end of Chapter 9. Kim Possible's house has been compared to the VanDamm house in the Alfred Hitchcock film, "_****North by Northwest****_." Although obscure, the architectural similarity has been mentioned by more than a couple of people. _**

**_As the winner, Feudor has earned the option for his _****non de plume****_ to show up in the story in some form or fashion. Stay tuned for more developments._**

**_PM notes: Welcome Aboard to_**** lindon2****_! Your vote has been tabulated. And _****Sentinel, ****_are you asking if "Justine" is a "canon" character? Wasn't she paired with Kim on that science project in the episode "Partners"? ;-)_**

**_(6/28/14) Uberscribbler has pointed out that the exchange between Betty & Shego goes on a little too long in this chapter. Looking back, I know that I was taking my time with setting things up, fleshing out the characters, and letting the story unwind at more liesurely pace. But there's a difference between taking your time and just filling space. There are certain things that are being set up here-and that requires putting things into context and not just saying "this happened" and then "that happened." Still..._**

**_...running through the chapter this time, it seems to me that most of it is just treading water-and I'm taking more than just the Betty & Shego show. _**

**_I would hope that these extended scenes are not too much in the way of speedbumps to my gentle readers but, nonetheless, I apologize if this chapter is more of a "foot-tapper." _**

**_If I were working in manuscript form, I could edit it down and fold it into the next chapter. Alas, I tried that once before (shifting chapter parts around after the original posting): the end result was not pretty. I could leave the chapter in place and put it on a severe diet...but I fear the end result would be a four page chapter. Awkweird. But tell me what or how much you think I should trim and I'll take a whack at it_**

* * *

**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 19**

_CajunBear73 6/9/11 . chapter 19_

Well the ladies are staging for the Run for the Ronster Sweepstakes and it looks like the field is as varied as it is beautiful... Man you are such a tease! LOL!

But some real emotions are just all over as Ron's appearance in Middleton starts to 'leak out', I'm sure...

But Mastermind's plans seem to have a hitch or two, but I hope he can't get what he's after, and his group falls hard.

Somehow more will fall before this happens.

CB73

**_Maybe nobody will still be on their feet before we're done… R~13_**

* * *

_CAP 6/9/11 . chapter 19_

A very deep and well written story here. Read all 19 chapters in 2 hours and I and looking forward to what more you have on the way for Ron and the women that are now in his life and going for his heart. If I had to pick a pairing, Anne Possible would be my pick, they would work well for some reason (in my mind at least) or a harem with the older women(Anne, Shego, Betty). Have a good one.

**_Ah, the delectable Anne Possible. If only she wasn't married…and Kim's mother…but who knows what will happen before this story is done… R~13_**

* * *

_kriitikko 6/10/11 . chapter 19_

I don't know why but I admit I have a weird fondness for both Ron/Betty and Ron/Anne. Probably because they are so, so rare. Btw, totally love this story.

**_Thanks man. Ron/Betty—a rarity, for sure. "In Her Life" by AtomicFire comes to mind. Sadly, it was abandoned after only three chapters and it's been more than six years, now. Le sigh… R~13_**

* * *

_LonewolfBloodstorm 6/10/11 . chapter 19_

seems we have a new player for the ron-man. and i approve. if i haven't said this before then my vote is for harem. i think ron can handle it, and i think all the girls need ron.

**_Jeez—even if the ron man could handle the whole group thing, I'm not sure if I could… R~13_**

* * *

_pbow 6/26/11 . chapter 19_

Nevermind. Tara/Ron is in the shipping Pool here in chap 19... tho I would probably put Ron/Viv at even odds since she's got him right now.

This is a great story so far, bringing in all of the villains and secondary characters. (I do miss Kim, tho.)

**_Erm, Kim who? R~13_**

* * *

_Some Dude 8/25/13 . chapter 19 _

Damn, those ninjas are really messing with the possible family...

**_And it's going to get messier before they're done! R~13_**


	20. Watching Over

**Required Disclaimer:** _RSVP is a work of Fan Fiction. Just as a prophet hath no honor in his own country, I have no profits in writing my own story. That's because all previously established characters are inhabitants of the Disney Channel series, Kim Possible._

* * *

**Chapter Twenty – Watching Over**

Bonnie Rockwaller was still trying to figure out what she was going to say to Tara as she got off of the hospital elevator.

Sooner or later her best friend was going to have a conversation with one of their former teammates. The fact that most of the Middleton cheerleaders had gone their separate ways after graduation, yet showed up at her house en masse suggested that a lot of conversations were going on even now. Sooner or later one of them would give Tara a call.

If they hadn't already.

If they had, maybe it was a good thing. Tara would realize that she had a lot more competition for Ron Ron's affections, taking her focus off of Bonnie…

_Ron Ron? _

_Where did that come from?_

Bonnie shook her head. On the other hand, the others seemed angry enough to try to turn the blonde against her. Which wouldn't be too hard given Tara's mood when she stormed out a few hours ago. She'd have to feel her out. Maybe she'd had time to cool off.

Maybe she'd be angrier!

Bonnie wondered how could she fix this and still get what she wanted?

She stopped in the middle of the hall as that last thought passed through her head. _Just what did she want? _

_Exactly?_

No! It wasn't that complicated: it was all about The Status, natch! What wasn't in Bonnieworld?

Stoppable had gone from Zero to Hero and the woman who nailed him would have bragging rights like no other socialite on the planet.

Especially since the froob would probably continue to be a one-woman, loyal kind-of-guy. That was important! How could you be special if you were just another notch on the bedpost, another wannabe in the long line of hopefuls passing through some horndog's bedroom?

No, for once, Stoppable was the ideal social package. Way beyond Senior Year, he was Homecoming King of the planet, now! All of that stuff her fellow/former cheer mates were going on and on about just guaranteed it. What woman wouldn't want—

She had started to take a step before freezing again.

_If any woman would go all weak-kneed over Stoppable because he was the perfect package, what did that say about her own interests?_

Presuming everything that everyone was saying about him was true, then _why wasn't she all weak-kneed, too?_

She shook her head. Because she had better—

Better what?

Options?

What a joke!

Bonnie bit down on her lower lip and willed her thoughts to not go there.

Over the years she had learned how to derail unpleasant trains of thought and she wasn't quite ready to face the sad, unpleasant truths of her own love life.

Because this had nothing to do with real feelings! Real wants and needs…

_Desire…_

Bonnie Rockwaller was in it for Popularity payoff.

That's all there was to it!

Bon Bon was the master of the game—even if the game had been taken to a whole new level.

Her history, as far back as she could remember, was about how, with every date, with each new boyfriend, she was always looking down the road as to how she could do better.

It was called climbing the social ladder because each time you got to the next rung up, you could see the rung above…and you reached up for it.

She had been doing it for so long, now, she really hadn't considered what might happen when she ran out of rungs. Either because she couldn't climb any higher or that there just wasn't anyone better.

In playing the social game, she had lost sight of what might happen when that distant day finally arrived where she might actually reach the finish line.

The idea that Ron Stoppable might be the best that she—or any woman—could possibly do was so unthinkable that it was hard to contemplate, even now.

But, there it was.

He had saved the whole freaking planet!

Women _wanted_ him, men wanted to _be_ him.

It turned out that those Naco royalties were still rolling in and he was even richer than he was when he'd cashed his first big check!

And he was—Oh God—nonononononononono_YES_—a really sweet guy!

But she didn't go for sweet! Bonnie liked badass!

But what was more badass than a guy who traveled the globe fighting supervillains and throwing ten-foot aliens across the sky?

Baddest-ass with cute freckles!

She shook her head and tried to take another step and nearly fell: damn knees! What was wro—NO!

"My knees are strong!" she muttered through clenched teeth. "I. Am. Not. Weak."

And forced her rubbery legs to carry her forward.

This was a publicity stunt for her—nothing more.

Ron Stoppable was a means to an end…

_Which was the perfect proposition to make to her bestest friend!_

She would lay it out as a win-win scenario for the both of them.

Stoppable was still MIA. She would get Tara to agree to let Bonnie pretend to be his girlfriend while he was gone and then pretend to "break up with him" when he returned, giving Tara her best shot.

It was nearly perfect! Tara couldn't very well date Stoppable if he wasn't around. In the meantime, Bonnie's social status would get a real numbers bump. And she could argue that Ron would even enjoy the elevated status of having had—er—_dated_—the "much desired" Bonnie Rockwaller.

AND, by doing so, would keep the rest of the competition at a distance so that Tara could step in without a lot of interference if—when—Ron Ron returned.

_Stoppable! She meant Stoppable!_

Bonnie was so focused on how she was going to mend fences with Tara that she hadn't given a second thought as to why Tara was staying at the hospital overnight. When the thought finally did catch up to her, she was already standing outside the door to "Tara's room."

Which was closed.

With a "Quarantined" sign prominently displayed next to it.

Bonnie raised her hand to knock and then hesitated.

Maybe Tara hadn't come home to get her things because she was contagious. Or exposed to someone who was. But, if that was the case, why would she ask her mother to come here where she'd be exposed?

As Bonnie stood there, trying to decide on her next course of action, the door flew open and a familiar-looking blonde woman stood before her, looking at Bonnie and then looking up and down the hallway.

"You-you're Adrena Lynn!" Bonnie stammered, recognizing the former Reality TV star. "Am I on camera?" She started looking up and down the corridor, as well.

Another elevator "dinged" and its doors began to open. The blonde's hand shot out and grabbed Bonnie by the arm. The next thing the brunette knew, she was halfway across the room and the door was slamming shut behind her. Looking back, she saw a black girl and a brunette step in front of it as if to bar any further visitors.

"Bonnie!" Tara rushed up to Bonnie and hugged her tightly. "I'm so glad you're here! How did you know? Did Dr. Possible recruit you, too?"

Tara's embrace was so tight that Bonnie lost her grip on the satchel and it fell to the floor. She looked down and saw her overnight bag. "Oh. I see. My mom…"

Bonnie, in the meantime, was looking at the other two blondes in the room: the attractive twenty-something that had just risen from her chair…

…and the pale young man in the hospital bed who lay there, still as death.

"Ronnie?"

No one was looking at the odd-looking fly on the wall that had entered the room with the teal-eyed brunette.

**RSVP**

Fukushima was impatient.

That old fool Sensei had often told him that his impatience would be his undoing someday. But the outcast ninja was sure that action was always better than inaction any day.

That damned Mastermind was holding him back. All of this waiting was accomplishing nothing!

He could be ratcheting up the pressure on the Possible family to make their daughter come home. All that he would have to do was simply send her a letter from "her father" telling her that it was safe to return…

But _that_ wouldn't suit his purposes.

Kim Possible's return would address much of what had gone wrong for them this past year and they would be one happy family again.

And a strong and happy Kim Possible would be a major distraction in dealing with the gaijin-pretender Stoppable.

Besides, he still didn't know where Ron Stoppable was. And he doubted that she did, either.

It would be simple enough if the _gaijin's_ family was home instead of halfway around the world on some conference-tour or something. He could then draw the boy out of hiding by destroying his parents and sister.

Since that option was off of the table for now, his best bet was to destroy the Possibles, instead.

And their daughter's return—an angry and vengeful one instead of happy and loving—would finally bring her partner forth from his concealment.

_If he played his cards right, he could time it just so as to use her anger and grief against him like a weapon!_

All of this, of course, was expressly against his orders to merely watch and wait. So Mastermind would have to be kept in the dark until it was too late for the masked fool. Once Fukushima had the lotus blade, he'd arrange for a trophy case to be made. Something large enough to display three human heads: Mastermind, Sensei, and Ron Stoppable!

But, first things first: the Possible brats had just moved up the timetable on their own demise…

**RSVP**

Jim and Tim Possible's latest remote controlled drone had greater flight range and stealth capabilities than their previous surveillance copters. The cameras had infrared capabilities and ultra-directional microphones that could listen in on a whispered conversation taking place up to a hundred feet below while in hover mode.

Yet, despite these enhancements, there was no longer any trace of the ninja-like intruders that the tweebs had monitored just a day or so before.

At least for the most part.

"There!" Tim Possible pointed at one of the monitor screens.

"Movement," Jim Possible agreed.

"But there's nothing there!" they growled together as they froze, reversed, and advanced the video, frame by frame, to see what moved and where it might have gone.

"I still say it's ninjas," Jim muttered.

"Whoever or whatever, they've really stepped up in the stealth department," Tim huffed.

"Which means they're onto us…"

"…being onto them!"

They looked at each other, growing concern mirrored on their faces.

**RSVP**

Hope's fingers rolled over the ivory keys of the baby grand piano in series of musical riffs and arpeggios before settling into the light background accompaniment for Marcella's vocals.

The sultry brunette stepped up to the microphone and caressed it briefly before parting her lips to sing: "There's a saying old…says that love is blind…" Her voice was little more than a whisper but the room was quiet and Marcella was working the microphone like a pro. "…still we're often told…seek and ye shall find…"

She paused and Hope's fingers hesitated as she watched for the cue.

"So I'm going to seek a certain lad…I've had in mind."

Marcella's rhythm was off, tonight. They rotated this song in and out of their repertoire every three nights or so and they could practically perform it in their sleep. Some nights it felt like they actually were…

"Looking everywhere, haven't found him yet…he's the big affair I cannot forget…" Another pause.

With a start, Hope suddenly realized that Marcella's rhythm wasn't off, but very much on: she was _phrasing_…singing to the song's true emotional core.

"Only man I ever think of…with…regret." Marcella bowed her head, her hair a dark curtain that fell around her face and the microphone.

Hope almost missed her cue to the half bridge.

"I'd like to add his initials to my monogram," Marcella sang with unusual melancholy, "tell me where is the shepherd for this lost lamb."

Across the room diners were pausing, some with a forkful of salad or steak raised half way to their mouths. Heads nodded. Smiles erupted in the lowered mood lighting. All were familiar with the great standard by George and Ira Gershwin. Who would have expected such a skillful interpretation of a song nearly ninety years old by a young woman barely twenty?

"There's somebody I'm longing to see…I hope that he…turns out to be…someone who'll watch over me…"

Marcella had never looked so lovely as tonight and Hope's breath caught in her throat as she watched her friend sway sensuously to the slow throb of the music. She was wearing the simple, beaded, black evening gown that she rotated with the white silk and the red sequined numbers but she wore it differently tonight. It was a physical expression of her mood, her heart, and, as her voice took on volume and vibrato, even a voyeurs' peek at her very soul.

"I'm a little lamb who's lost in the wood…I know I could…always be good…to someone who'll watch over me."

Marcella had always seemed to play to her fiery Italian ancestry, temper and passion ruling her relationships to the point where she gained the reputation as a bit of a diva—overshadowed only by Bonnie Rockwaller, herself. But this Marcella…the tremulous, little girl caught in the throes of a wistful longing…was erotically haunting!

"Although he may not be the man some…girls think of handsome…to my heart he carries the key." She stopped and a single tear whispered down her cheek.

No one moved. Not a single patron. Not a single waiter. Even Feudor, the _maitre d'_, was like a statue by the entry, as if to prevent any outside disturbance that might intrude upon this breathless silence.

"Won't," she finally said, her voice raw with need.

"You…" Each word was a single statement, a separate universe of anguish.

"Tell…"

Then the melody came back into her voice and she was able to sing once more: "…him please to put on some speed…follow my lead…" Marcella's hand was now gripping the microphone, an old Shure 55S, like the back of a lover's head.

"Oh…how I need…

And Hope suddenly knew why this old standard was suddenly brand new. Why Marcella had transformed from just another dining room singer into a true torch balladeer.

"Someone to watch over me…"

She was singing about _him_. She was singing _to_ him.

Of all of them—and their shared grudge against Bonnie—Marcella had seemed to take it more personally than the rest of them.

"Someone to watch over me…"

_Oh my_, Hope thought as she laid the song to rest with a few final chords, _the girl's got it bad!_

And feeling the fluttering sensation deep in her own stomach she thought: Maybe it's contagious…

**RSVP**

Dr. Vivian Porter had been less than pleased with the idea of sharing bedside watches with the blonde paramedic. From what she could gather, there was some kind of history between this girl Tara and Ronald Stoppable.

_It was no surprise this guy was some kind of babe magnet_, she thought. She'd been too worried about her work being purloined by that creep Fen back when they'd met the first time. She was vaguely impressed that this guy supposedly ran around with Kim Possible, solving crimes, fighting freaks, and saving people. Dr. James Possible would tell the occasional story—although Ron rarely figured prominently in any of them and, when he did, Kim's father usually stressed how harmless and trustworthy the "boy" was.

Then came the Lowardian Invasion and Vivian was treated to multiple videos of just what that "boy" could do.

And, before she knew it, there he was in Japan, putting it all on the line to save people he didn't even know. And the whole young widower thing only made him even more romantically tragic.

Dr. Director and that Shego woman had about fallen all over each other to put themselves in closer proximity to him but Vivian had won that sweepstakes, getting him out—out of the plant, out of the country, out of the clutches of those two—well, she had managed to get him all to herself. The robots didn't count and her colleague's wife was a married woman so the only problem was the blonde. She couldn't very well close her eyes for a nap, even sitting in a chair next to the bed. What if he woke up and saw her, first? There were a dozen mathematical theorems that proved she'd be at a statistical disadvantage if that happened.

And now, suddenly, there was this skanky-looking brunette in the room who also seemed to have a history with her…friend.

The blonde was uber-wholesome and bouncy and the brunette was all sultry and dangerous looking in the way most men liked. She wasn't sure which way Ron liked to swing but the whole range was right there for him to choose from.

As competition went, could it get any worse?

Her thoughts were interrupted by her cell phone playing _Mr. Roboto_ by Styx. "V.F. Porter," she answered.

Betty Director's voice sounded in her ear: "Vivian? Shego and I are at the Middleton Hospital but they have no record of a patient named Ron Stoppable. Where are you?"

_Crap!_

**RSVP**

Dr. Sophia Renton, Middleton's other leading advanced cyber-robotics specialist, was led from her cell, blindfolded and in handcuffs.

"Are you taking me to my son?" she asked. "I want to see Felix!"

She was taken to a room where her blindfold and restraints were removed. The area she found herself in was set up as an advanced workshop and lab. Two of the tables held the broken and disassembled remains of several robots. Some of the pieces suggested that the finished product had been somewhat humanoid albeit with blue "skin."

"If you cooperate, you will be reunited with your son," Mastermind's distorted voice crackled from the speakers set high on the walls.

"That's what you said when you took my son's cyber chair!" she yelled back at her absent captor. "And we're still your prisoners! So I don't see any reason to cooperate with you any further!"

"Your son is a paraplegic," the awful voice purred from a hidden location. "Wouldn't it be a tragedy if he became a _quadriplegic?_"

The strawberry blonde scientist's defiant posture crumbled. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to construct two robots for me. The specifications are listed in the red notebook on the first table. And I want you to make them as lifelike…as _possible!_" And Mastermind began to giggle—a tittering chuckle that turned into a full-blown explosion of insane laughter.

**RSVP**

Feudor handed two checks over, one for Marcella, the other for Hope. "As always, ladies, you were just lovely. Your performance," he nodded to Marcella, "was especially poignant tonight." He sighed. "It's only fitting, I suppose."

"Fitting?" Hope asked. Marcella had a faraway look in her eyes and would have to be minded until she could get her back to their apartment and into bed.

"I'm afraid I'll be closing _Goldbrand's_ at the end of the month. Ever since I lost my top chef, business has been off and, in this economy, I just can't keep the doors open any longer. I sincerely wish you both the best of luck."

"But what will you do, Feudor?" Hope asked.

The _maitre d'_—who was also the owner and manager of the stylish restaurant shrugged. "Sell off what I can and look for work. I used to be a pretty fair chef, myself. That's how I worked my way up to owning my own place. But I can't run a restaurant and cook, too." He smiled. "Unless I downsize to a—what do you call it—a coffeeshop?"

Hope reached over and hugged their soon-to-be former employer. "Well, we wish you the best of luck, too. Don't we, M?"

Marcella seemed to rouse herself from her reverie. "Wait…" she said softly, "I think we know someone who can help…"

**RSVP**

There was a knock at the hospital room door.

Vivian signaled the B-bots to open it, expecting Dr. Director and Shego, but two orderlies entered, instead, wheeling a gurney.

"We're here to take the patient down to X-ray," one of them announced.

Vivian frowned. "I thought Dr. Possible didn't want Ronald exposed to additional radiation, yet."

Tara was frowning, too. She been in the hospital's Radiology Department before and she'd never seen protective gear like these orderlies wore: form-fitting, white and purple bodysuits with matching skullcaps and red goggles. Each had a gold circle at the center of their chests encapsulating a letter from the Greek alphabet.

That was weird enough.

But then a giant rat came trotting around the corner and paused in the doorway.

It trembled.

And began to growl.

* * *

**ABOUT THE CHAPTER TITLE: "Watching Over" refers to both the theme of the great Gershwin ballad, Someone to Watch Over Me, and the ladies who are literally watching over our comatose hero right now.**

* * *

**Authors/Notes:**

**_This was a short chapter to begin with and the last rewrite gave me the chance to address Bonnie's emotional ambivalence with a little more detail. Not that she's an open book, now, but I felt that she was a little more on "autopilot" before. _**

**_In fact, this is part of the arc I call "The Rehabilitation of Bonnie Rockwaller." I've read my share of stories that try to flip her into a RonBon pairing and, while I think it's a fascinating dynamic that deserves more outings here, 4 years of hostility and snarky put-downs are not easily erased in a single chapter._**

**_Plus, a little Marcella goodness with a scoop of Hope on the side!_**

**CajunBear73****_ and _****Wanderer3****_ both came up with the correct answer to the Betty mystery but _****CB73****_ came in first so he's the official winner of the Second RSVP "You're All That!" Award. We'll be seeing him in some form or incarnation somewhere down the road._**

_**Wanderer3**_**_ raises some excellent points in his review below—and begs the questions I asked back some three chapters ago. I think harem stories tend to bog down as a certain point because the stage management as well as the emotional balancing acts multiply exponentially until they achieve critical mass and the stories implode or are abandoned or descend into a pornographic orgy. (Settle down, Beavis: I know some of you are hoping for the latter…) I ask again: what constitutes a true "ship" and point out that over the last 20 chapters, Ron has only been intimate with one person. (What Vivian may or may not have done with an unconscious Ron Stoppable on that long trans-Pacific flight doesn't count)._**

**_Still, that doesn't address all the unrequited karma that's starting to build up to dangerous levels. By becoming an international hero and sensation, it's inevitable that "The Ron" would be irresistible to even the ladies who don't know him. And for the ones that do? Well, I say unto you: fear not, little flock. I plan on taking a big bite out of that bean burrito pretty soon. _**

**_And some of you aren't going to like it. _**

**_At least, at first. _**

**_Patience, my little lambs: 24's Jack Bauer is just sitting down with his coffee and the morning paper: the day is yet young… _**

**_Riplakish13_**

**_(7/5/14) A little more of the Tweebs in this re-edit…_**

* * *

**REVIEWS for CHAPTER 20**

_FF24sevenEditor 6/11/11 . chapter 20_

I saw harem Ron needs all the love he can get

**_Wow, you guys with the harem vote! Is it that you can't make up your minds or you really want to see how Hef pulls it off? _**

**_;-) R~13_**

* * *

_CajunBear73 6/11/11 . chapter 20_

And the answer to your question: a shard of the Tempus Simia... for Betty!

**_You are correct, sir! It is a shard of the Tempus Simia and there is more fallout ahead from this pan-dimensional artifact!_**

Now it seems this is really running all over the rails. The ladies of Middleton are really mess over Ron Stoppable, and his secretly being at the hospital will be a secret no longer. Hope Betty and Shego can get there to deal with the 'orderlies'..

_**Love that you've put "orderlies" in quotes!**_

Quite the torch songstress Marcella turned out to be. A little bit of longing goes a long way there.

_**And, hopefully, the last time I indulge in a "songfic".**_

And Fukushima's ploy at the Possible's has been noticed, hope the Tweebs can fend off Ronin Ninja. And that last bit of lingerie he probably left behind seems to have driven Anne further away from James.

CB73

**_It's a right mess, all right! Too bad this story can't be like real life and everything be sorted out quickly and cleanly with no harm-physically or emotionally-to the good guys..._**

**_R~13_**

* * *

_snake1980 6/11/11 . chapter 20_

damn what a chapter. Can't wait to see what happens in the next one and who else will go after ron. i would vote for harem for the story, reason is everything that has happened to ron lately he needs all the love he can get and what better way then with with people that love him. looking forward to the next chapter. keep up the great work.

**_Thanks Snake. I don't know which Ron needs more right now: all the love he can get or all the rest he can get…I doubt he can have both, together… R~13_**

* * *

_Wanderer3 6/12/11 . chapter 20_

Again good work. But I'm starting to get worried about the fallout. A Bean Burrito is going to hit the fan before this is over (what with all the Women chasing Ron, schemes and misdirections and so forth coming to light), but the size of said proverbial burrito and fan seem to be getting larger and larger with every chap. We're talkin Power Ranger Megazord sized stuff already!

Any while some of these other girls would be decent to see with Ron at some point or another, I'll haveta toss my Final vote and prediction to Vivian. Why?... mainly the fic's title can be their initials (Ron Stoppable Vivian Porter R.S.V.P.) so it was either Vivan or some form of harem idea, cause you seem to keep adding more and more lovlies to Ron's dance card.

Oh and I theorize that Betty's transformation is due to Magical Temporal regression. The Monkey Paw fragment she put in her uniform pocket in chap 7 would most likely be a piece of the Tempus Simia which when shattered still have some of their original Mojo and in Betty's case, causing her body to age backwards quickly, which would explain the loss of scars and 'perkier physique'.

Gotta Blast!

_**Alas, Wanderer, CajunBear beat you to the punch. But you've made several astute observations and I address them (somewhat) in my author's notes above. I can't say any more without giving away some significant plot points. As for your nifty theory for the title, RSVP, and how it might be a clue to the primary ship. Only time will tell if you're right… R~13**_

* * *

_Critic 8/16/11 . chapter 20_

Throw this new reader's vote down for a ron/kim.

**_Ah! A traditionalist! (Nothing wrong with that, right, CB?) R~13_**

* * *

_mohsin90 8/17/11 . chapter 20_

ron/kim

**_Gee, two votes in favor of foiling Mastermind's evil plot of keeping those two crazy kids apart! R~13_**

* * *

_Egohan 8/17/11 . chapter 20_

I have been reading this story for a while now and must say this story is one of the best i have read in sometime the setup is wonderful and if i had to pick a pairing after reading all of the base story and the add ons i would pick ron/harem

**_Okay, I've been assuming all along that when readers vote for the harem ship, they are requesting it in the sexual sense. But a careful reading of the definition for Anime and Manga harems suggest that the sexual component isn't necessarily a given. Is that case? Because Ron has been through a lot and I'm not sure he's healthy enough for more than a few casual friendships. R~13_**

* * *

_Sentinel103 2/16/12 . chapter 20_

Justine as in Sister Justine Rip...mannnnnn, ok the stampede is well underway and how in the heck did the WWEE find out Stoppable was back?...Or is someone hacking Bett's private diary?

Larry (Sentinel 103)

**_Mastermind has many pieces on the board. And if Jack Hench knows, then others may, as well. R~13_**

* * *

_Some Dude 8/26/13 . chapter 20 _

If they don't see the obvious signs in that situation... then everyone in that room is a dumb blonde.

**_It's not the blonde hair that's the problem, it's the "green" eyes! R~13_**

* * *

**_G. Login chapter 20 . 7/13/14 _**

Much of this could have been settled if James and Anne talked to each other. He is being lied to that she is sleeping around and if the talked they would at least have a chance to realize they are bots like what happened to Kim. And the underwear are probably planted their and not really from James having an affair.

_**Yep, a plant. And, of course, you're right: so many misunderstandings could be avoided if people would just talk to one another. Fukashima is a mastermind in his own right when it comes to manipulating his victims. R~13**_


	21. Alpha and Omega

**Required Disclaimer:** _Do I have any ownership of the Kim Possible universe—legally, economically, or creatively? NO! Can I or am I make any money or barter for goods from this work of fanfiction? NO! (Cue Songfic disclaimer…) _

_No no no no no no no no no_

_No no no no no no no no_

_No no no no no no no no_

_No no no no no_

_Nobody can do_

_**Kim Possible!**_

_Like they do_

_No no no no no no no no no_

_No no no no no no no no_

_No no no no no no no no_

_No no no no no_

_Nobody can do_

_**Ron Stoppable!**_

_Like they do_

_No no no no no no no no no_

_No no no no no no no no_

_No no no no no no no no_

_No no no no no_

_Nobody can do_

_**Dr. Drakken!**_

_Like they do_

_No no no no no no no no no_

_No no no no no no no no_

_No no no no no no no no_

_No no no no no_

_Nobody can do_

_**The Mad Dogs!**_

_Like they do_

_Well don't you know I ain't no Disney_

_I ain't Mark McCorkle_

_Not Bob Schooley_

_Nobody but me_

_Just writin' fanfic, I'm doin'_

_Ain't nobody payin'_

_not payin' me, baby_

_Nothin' for me_

_Well let me tell you no money_

_No money for me_

_Well let me tell you_

_Nobody, nobody, nobody, etc.*_

_(*To the tune of "Nobody But Me" by the Human Beinz)_

* * *

**Chapter Twenty One – Alpha and Omega**

Her headband was totally soaked and beads of sweat had begun to roll down her forehead and into her eyes. She shook her head, sending a spray of drops in every direction while her blonde hair, tied back in a thick ponytail, whipped about and blotted her face of the excess moisture.

That didn't solve the problem for the rest of her lithe form where perspiration had painted black crescents on her grey sports bra beneath her arms and breasts and wicked through her gym socks, shorts, and shoes. Her arms and legs glistened and her torso gleamed as the bare bulb hanging from the basement ceiling picked up the highlights off her twisting, flexing flesh.

_A hot shower_, she thought, _followed by a long, luxurious bubble bath. But...ten more minutes_, she promised herself. If Global Justice was set to tap the former Middleton High cheerleader pool for some sort of Kim substitute, she wanted her audition to be the best.

She attacked the bag again with a combination of lefts and rights, her gloved hands smacking the weighted canvas in a flurry of blows. Then a changeup as she threw in some side kicks, alternating with back and forth spin kicks for good measure. Then back to the punches, now punctuated by spinning forearm strikes and finally putting a period to it with a jump kick.

Now the bag and the floor around it were damp from her exertions.

She stopped to rehydrate, tucking her glove under her other arm and slid her hand out to pick up her water bottle.

If the international police organization was looking for a Kim replacement did that mean that they knew something? Was Kim not coming back?

More importantly, was _Ron_ not coming back?

Because the main reason she was doing all of this—carb-loading and working out like a fiend and martial arts cross-training and having no personal life (outside of that aborted blind date)—_God!_—was the chance to be teamed up with the boy with the Milk Dud eyes!

She was so shy, she made Tara look like an extrovert.

She'd probably only spoken a half dozen words to him over the whole four years he'd hung out around the cheer squad.

And what would have been the point, anyway?

Yeah, Bonnie would have ragged her ass the way she did Tara's when the other blonde looked at Ron and started getting that look in _her_ eyes every so often.

But Bonnie was small potatoes next to Kim. _What was the point of trying to talk to a guy who hung out with a super-achiever hottie like Kim Freakin' Possible?_ If she had spoken up…asked him out…or even just suggested a study date, he would have laughed at her. _If_ he even noticed her to begin with. And she was too shy, too self conscious to put herself out there.

Oh, a lot of people would have laughed to think that a cheerleader—practically the apex of the high school food chain—would be, could _actually_ be shy.

Insecure.

Introverted.

Timid.

Even bashful.

What so many people didn't know was that sometimes the people who seemed the most confident in front of a crowd…were the least confident when alone with _one_ other person.

Sometimes the ones who appeared to be the most accomplished…were the ones who felt that they had the most to prove.

If Global Justice picked her for the _Possibilities Project_ then maybe…just maybe…she would be paired with Ron Stoppable!

And then it wouldn't look like she was making any moves on him…

…until he had a chance to really see her as a partner.

"Jess!" her mother called down the stairs, interrupting her reverie, "your phone!"

"I'll call them back." _I'm kind of ripe and I should do just five more minutes…_

"Sorry, I already answered it. It's your cousin."

"Which—?" Oh. _That_ cousin. She'd _have_ to take it. She splashed the contents of the bottle up under both arms and grabbed her towel on the way up the stairs.

**RSVP**

"What kind of a hospital is this?" Bonnie Rockwaller cried. "There are giant rats roaming the hallway!"

"There's only one and it's not a rat," Tara remonstrated. "It's a Chihuahua and it's precious!" She knelt down and softly clapped her hands. "Here, boy! Come here. Are you lost?"

The two "X-ray techs" gave each other a look and then eased the gurney over to the bed. Or tried to, at least: their way was suddenly blocked by three attractive women in nurse's scrubs.

"Who wrote the orders for this procedure?" Dede demanded.

"We will have to verify and crosscheck your paperwork," Cece advised.

"And we will need to know the purpose for taking him to Radiology at this time," Bebe finished.

"I think I can answer those two questions," a new voice spoke from the doorway. It was deep and melodious and belonged to a large man with a moustache and goatee. "But I'm afraid you are going to be disappointed by the paperwork." He wore a purple and white bodysuit, similar to the ones worn by the faux orderlies, but without the matching skullcap and Greek letter chest insignia.

Vivian shrank back. "Oh my God! It—it—can't be! You!"

"Ah, Dr. V.F. Porter…" He clasped his hands behind his back and stepped across the threshold. "…I see that my reputation precedes me!"

The blonde roboticist frowned and leaned forward for another look. "Wait a minute…_you're_ not Orson Welles! Besides, _he's_ dead!"

The differences between this visitor and the dead actor/director became more apparent at second glance: he wore an eye patch over his left eye and a metal glove over his right hand. "I am Gemini," he proclaimed, "and W.W.E.E. has come to collect my Agent Alpha!"

Bonnie Rockwaller was in a foul mood. Worried over Ron's condition and miffed that Tara wasn't the only hurdle to laying claim to the former Mad Dog mascot; she stood and planted her hands on her hips. "Syntax, Mister Horoscope! It's 'we _have_ come' not "we _has_ come.' And who the hell is Alfalfa?"

The big man grimaced. "Not "we' we…"

The little dog shivered expectantly.

"…but 'W.W.E.E.' WWEE! The World Wide Evil Empire! And it's Agent. Alpha. You. Twit!"

Bonnie turned her head aside and sniffed disdainfully. "I don't watch wrestling."

"We are not a wrestling organization!" he shouted.

"Don't you mean W.W.E.E. _is_ not a wrestling organization?" Tara giggled.

"Oh, for heavens sake! We—W.W.E.E., that is—are—_IS_—the villainous counterpart to Global Justice!"

The tiny, trembling Chihuahua suddenly spazzed out in a frenzy of barking and bouncing convulsions.

The big man turned around and scooped up the tiny dog into his large arms. "Ooooh, sorry, Pepe! Daddy didn't mean to say those naughty words! He'll put a whole dollar into the GJ Jar this time!" And he gave a nod to the two henchmen with the gurney.

Both attempted to push through the trio of "nurses" standing between them and Ron's bed.

Both went flying across the room and creating largish dents in the far wall.

"We protect Ron Stoppable," Dede said.

"We serve Ron Stoppable," Cece said.

"We are ready to get Freaky!" Bebe said.

The other two looked at her. "What?" she said.

"Ah," the big man said, "I shouldn't be surprised. Middleton's leading robotics expert keeping watch over The Ron Factor. Who could hope to win going up against a trio of cybernetic security drones?" he asked, placing his metal-gloved hand against his chest. "I don't know…maybe…me?" He extended his arm and pointed at Dede in the middle.

His fingertip sprouted tiny fins, turned into a small missile, and shot out of his metal index finger.

It didn't quite reach the metal maid before it fell to the floor.

"Gee," Bonnie smirked, as everyone watched the brunette robot pick up the spent missile, "this is the first time anybody ever gave me the finger and I wanted to laugh."

There was a sudden flash and a sound like: _**BaMpF!**_

The lights in the room went out and all three B-bots keeled over and hit the floor.

**RSVP**

_Jessica!_

"Hey, Tina!" the former Middleton High cheerleader said, mopping her chest and stomach with her towel.

_Long time no see!_

"I'm not the one with a private jet!" She giggled.

_Well, how about if I use it to fly down and see you next week?_

"Aren't you on tour?'

_Final week. Then I get some much needed down time!_

"I'll be you're exhausted!"

_Yeah. Some. But it's not just a physical thing. I need downtime to recharge my creative batteries. And, to do that, I need to get out of The Bubble. Am I still your cousin 'Tina'?_

"Silly, you've always been my cousin Tina."

_I mean, if I put on the dark wig and glasses, will I still be incognito?_

"Yeah, sure. Nobody knows that my brunette cousin Tina is actually the platinum blonde pop star Britina. It's like almost a Disney sitcom or something."

I'm surprised that you've kept my secret for so long.

"Surprised that I could? Or surprised that I _would?_"

_Don't take it the wrong way. But you would probably get a lot more attention if people knew that we were cousins._

"Yeah, wouldn't that be great," she answered sarcastically. "Then I'd never know if my friends liked me for me—or for the opportunity to get closer to Britina. The girls would be bad enough but the guys—I've already had enough trouble finding a stand up guy who isn't always looking for something better to come along."

_Not just you, Jessie. Even pop stars get lonely for the real deal. I think Nicky Nick just saw me as another career-building project and photo op. Show biz is full of fakes and wanna-bes. And ordinary guys don't want the real you, they want the fantasy._

"Gee, I never thought that being popular could make you lonely."

_I _am_ lonely! Hey, maybe you could set up your out-of-town cousin on a blind date when I get in next month…_

"I don't know, B. I'm kinda busy right now and it's kept me out of the social scene lately."

_Come on, you must know some decent guys. Hey, how about that friend of Kim Possible's?_

"I—uh—don't know who you mean…"

_Sure you do. Ron. Ron Stoppable._

Jessica frowned. "Since when do you know his name?"

_Come on, Jessie; I've like already met the guy twice._

"Yeah. I heard you turned him down for a date the first time you met him and then couldn't even remember his name when he and Kim were trying to get you out of prison on those false theft charges."

There was silence on the other end of the line.

"He was nobody to you until he saved the planet. _Now_ you can remember his name? _Now_ you want somebody to fix you up with him? This visit to hang out with your cousin is just a way to get closer to him! _Now_ who's a show biz fake and wanna-be?"

_I'm sorry, Jess. But why are you so tweaked over it? What's so awful about my wanting to—to—omygod! You want him, too! Don't you? Don't you!_

"Fine! You want a date with my high school friend Ron? I'll set you up right now. I'm putting you on park while I call Ron and set it up. You can listen in once we're connected. Hold on…" Jessica scrolled through her contacts list and hit the number she wanted. She clicked Britina back into three-way mode as the other number began to ring.

_Hello?_

"Hey, is this Ron?"

_Speaking._

"It's Jessica. Remember me? From Middleton High?"

_The blonde cheerleader, right? With the freckles? And the big—_

"Careful now!"

—_blue eyes? What?_

"Nothing. Hey, my cousin Tina's coming to visit in a couple of weeks and I was wondering if you'd be interested in taking her out some evening. Show her around Middleton…"

_Is she as pretty as you?_

"Oh. Prettier! If you—uh—like brunettes." Jessica giggled.

_Well, sure. I guess._

"Great! Then I'll call you when she gets in and we can set something up."

_Okay. Sure._

"Well, see you later, Ron."

_You bet, Jessica. Bye._

"Bye."

And as Ron Reager hung up, Jessica smirked and said to her cousin: "There. You're all locked in on your date with my _friend Ron_ from high school…"

**RSVP**

Vivian looked at the fallen robots and then at the smoking finger missile back on the floor. "EMP device…" she said dully.

"That's right, my dear. I came prepared, you see. Even if the electromagnetic pulse doesn't fry their circuits permanently, a reboot will take too long to interfere with this operation!"

"Operation!" Tara shrieked. "You _asshole!_ This is a _hospital!_ You interfere with the electronic systems in this building and people will _die!_"

Gemini shrugged. "Well, you can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs. After all, we are W.W.E—_URK!_" The big man went down as a hundred-and-ten pounds of platinum fury launched herself across the room and sucker-punched him in the groin.

Pepe went flying.

He landed on Ron where he began to growl menacingly.

Bonnie leaned over the fierce little canine. "Global Justice!" she shouted. "Global Justice! _Global Justice!_"

Pepe folded himself into a little ball and promptly went catatonic.

"Agent Omega," Gemini shouted in an ascending falsetto as Tara continued to pummel him. "Reinforcements! Attac—_OOF!_"

The door burst open and more purple-and-white suited goons began to flood into the room.

Bonnie somersaulted over the hospital bed to execute a classic cheer landing to the top of a three-person pyramid. The two WWEE henchmen she landed on weren't trained in Mad Dog cheerleader routines so they went down, each with a foot on their faces.

Tara executed a leg sweep that tripped two more as they tried to rush around their fallen leader.

Vivian reached into her purse and extracted a stun gun. Firing off a series of mini-darts, she managed to tag four more goons. Two of them smiled as they realized the darts had no wires attached. Then Viv pressed a button on the weapon, lighting up tiny red LEDs on the darts. A millisecond later the gun broadcast a tight beam electrical signature that discharged through the darts taking the quartet down in a shimmying, shaking dance to unconsciousness.

It wasn't enough.

More henchmen tried to pile into the room, getting jammed up at the narrow doorway, and pushing the women back past the bed. Two of them helped their leader stagger back up to his feet and he extended his metal hand toward the three women.

The index finger missile had already reloaded another digit. The middle and ring fingers had also developed tiny fins at the last joint and looked ready to fire. Gemini spread his fingers so that one fingertip missile was pointed at each of the women with his thumb and pinky to spare. The room went still.

"I'm going to kill you all," he snarled softly. "You," he told Vivian, "because you can't be allowed to send your robots after me." He turned to Bonnie. "You for abusing my poor Pepe…poor, poor, Pepe…is Daddy's little baby all—" His attention snapped back to Tara. "And you, for injuring Gemini's 'twins'."

"Tara was defiant. "Not just the nutsack, Nutjob, but I got your poor little Pepe—I mean poor little peepee—really good, too. I hope you piss blood all week!"

Bonnie's jaw dropped. "Tara?"

"Stuff it Bon Bon! Captain Rocketfingers here may have just killed everyone in the ICU and Surgery with that EMP thingy. If he's going to kill us I say we jump him now and see if one of us gets lucky!"

Bonnie smiled. It was her Evil Smile Number Four-B: the one that struck terror in the hearts of all freshmen cheerleaders when the Alternate Captain wanted to introduce a new "routine." She cracked her knuckles and tilted her head to crack her neck with an audible pop. "I heard that he kidnapped Ronnie a couple of years ago and almost killed him. If he gets me, first…bite 'em off, T!"

Gemini yawned. "Talk to the hand, bitches." He gestured insouciantly and prepared to fire.

"Talk to the bedpan, Shelly!"

Gemini glanced at Vivian. "What?"

She shrugged and shook her head.

There was a gong-like sound and a stainless steel helmet suddenly appeared on the supervillain's head. Gemini's eye rolled back and, as he dropped to the floor, another face with an eye patch appeared in his place. "You may surrender to Global Justice," Dr. Director announced, "by walking out to the parking lot with your hands over your heads…or you can stay and fight to the death with fifty embedded GJ agents. Ten seconds; your choice." She folded her arms across her increasingly perky bosom.

That distraction cost the purple-and-white clad henchmen a few seconds of their decision time but, in the end, all meekly complied and began the march to the elevators.

"Ah ah ah!" Shego remonstrated from the doorway, "stairways only." She held up a scary-looking instrument that looked like a cross between a torture device and a plumbers snake. "I've got a procto-scope and I'm not afraid to use it!" The look on her face suggested she was heavily into experimentation and creativity.

The line of surrendering henchmen suddenly became more orderly.

As the last man hit the halfway mark down the hallway Betty turned and said: "Help me get Mr. Stoppable onto the gurney!"

"Why are we moving him?" Bonnie wanted to know.

"Because there are no other Global Justice agents out there," Betty said. "Shego and I were on our way up to visit when we saw Sheldon's goons headed in the same direction. I don't know how long it will be before they figure out that we're alone and come running back."

"You go ahead," Vivian said as she knelt between Cece and Dede. "I'm going to try to reboot the B-bots. We'll need the additional firepower if they return."

"Oh my gosh!" Tara exclaimed. The EMP probably powered down the whole hospital! I should go down to the ICU and see if they need help!"

"We shouldn't separate, right now," Betty said. "It's not safe for any of us."

"Yeah," Bonnie agreed, delivering a well-aimed kick to Gemini's "geminis". "Not safe for _any_ of us."

"Betts," Shego stepped forward. "Let me try something."

Betty saw the look in her eyes and nodded briefly. "All right. But hurry."

Shego walked to the bed, peeling off her gloves as she went. Tucking them through a small loop at her hip, she placed her right hand on Ron's forehead and closed her eyes.

A minute passed.

Then two.

"Sheila…"

"Shhhhhh…" Slowly, she raised her left hand and held it, palm outward, with the fingers splayed.

Pepe stirred between Ron's knees and growled.

"Global Justice!" Bonnie hissed.

A yelp and all was quiet.

Shego's left hand began to glow with a greenish nimbus of light. A few sparks arced out from her palm.

She murmured something unintelligible and then sat on the bed without breaking contact with Ron's forehead. "Help me sit him up," she whispered.

Two pairs of hands propped him up while Shego unzipped her catsuit with her free hand. Then she pulled Ron into an embrace, leaning his forehead against her chest as she slid her right hand around to the back of his head. She murmured something close to his ear and it sounded as if he answered with a sigh.

Again she raised her left hand and turned it outward.

The glow was more immediate this time.

Brighter.

And more blue than green.

The room lights flickered.

Went off.

Came on.

Stayed on.

The B-bots twitched and began to sit up.

Shego lowered her left hand and caught Ron in a full embrace. Slowly she lowered him back down to his pillow.

Both of them were smiling, now.

And Ron began to lightly snore.

* * *

**ABOUT THE TITLE: "Alpha and Omega" is a phrase based on the first amd last letters of the Greek alphabet that mean "The Beginning and the End." In this chapter, Sheldon has come to make Ron his "Agent Alpha" and, when attacked, calls on his Agent Omega to send in reinforcements.**

* * *

**Authors/Notes:**

**_This chapter (and section of the story) is a little more fun for me as we're getting to know some of the cheerleaders a little better and watching them step up in Kim's absence._**

**_While it may seem like there's nothing for anyone to "step up" for, trust me: something bad is coming and no one is ready for it, yet..._**

* * *

**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 21**

_Wanderer3 6/13/11 . chapter 21_

Uuum...what the hell was that? *he says aloud in with great confusion, at the scene at the end of the chapter with the flicker lights*

Other than that, still good work with everything.

Gotta Blast!

**_Stay tuned: the answer is coming right up in the next chapter. R~13_**

* * *

_Pavelius 6/13/11 . chapter 21_

Ah poor Pepe... leave it to Bonnie to get people or animals into a fit with words only...

As for the previous chapters and the shipping... i am slowly giving up on Yori (its been an awfully long time now) and i am tending towards Ron & Shego more and more... your statement towards the Harem-theory is true, but it doesnt rule out the harem completly...

_**Well, everything takes a long time in this story and, yes, nothing is ruled out completely…**_

Anyway it is your story , you will make things working

_**I don't know…I'm beginning to wonder about that…**_

For RSVP ... i thought it was "Responsé sille vous plaizé"? Anyway... we will see..

Keep it coming, Pavel

**_Thanks, man! And your guess regarding the title? Almost there...about 90%... R~13_**

* * *

_CajunBear73 6/13/11 . chapter 21_

Well Shelly's been thwarted for now... But he never figured on being taken down like that. Go Girls!

Tara and Bonnie acquitted themselves well here, and it's a good thing Tara hasn't taken that Hippocratic Oath yet or she wouldn't have been able to 'do no harm'... with Shelly.

And Bonnie's dealing with Pepe, and Tara's slip about the other p-word was funny too.

Now to see how perky Betty and recharged Shego make out now that Ron seems to be about to wake up sooner than later.

CB73

**_Yeah, Ron's about to get a couple of different wake-up calls… R~13_**

* * *

_sh8ad8ow 6/13/11 . chapter 21_

good chapter please continue

**_Thanks sh8ad8ow; I will for as long as enough readers are interested! Or I reach the end first, of course. Or die, I suppose… R~13_**

* * *

_Harbinger Of Kaos 6/13/11 . chapter 21_

Well if this story go harem, which is my vote, that or Shego, Vivian or Anne.

Then the title could be RonShegoVivianPossible (Whether Kim or Anne is anyones guess) either way this is a kick ass story.

**_Ooooh! A very different and clever theory regarding the "RSVP" title! But that wasn't what I was thinking when I selected the title originally. Even if it does turn out to be Ron/Shego/Vivian/Possible(s) by the time we're through… R~13_**

* * *

_yoyoyoyo 6/14/11 . chapter 21_

i vote for ron/kim

**_Ah, another monogamist! Your vote has been tallied! R~13_**

* * *

_Sentinel103 2/16/12 . chapter 21_

A little action here. Now I think Bon Bon might want to spend some time practicing kicking targets and in Sheldon's case are probably very large and swelling targets too.

**_Bonnie has the potential to be "Faith" to Kim's "Buffy." Oops, wrong fandom. R~13_**

* * *

_warfolomei 6/26/12 . chapter 21_

O.O Well no point in going to sleep anymore. Might as well read the rest.

**_A good night's sleep might serve you better. Some of my more wide-awake readers have missed major clues... ;-) R~13_**

* * *

_JDSeay 6/30/13 . chapter 21_

this story keeps getting better with each additional chapter im game for the harem but i really want it to be tara/bonnie more i can see those two with him

**_I like it when my readers express a preference for certain characters. But I love it when they get into the details of who belongs with whom and, more specifically, why. R~13_**

* * *

_Some Dude 8/26/13 . chapter 21_

Damn, Ron's knocked out and still getting luckier than... ain't that a bitch!

**_Sometimes, under these circumstances, it's better to be knocked out than fully awake... R~13 _**

* * *

**_Uberscribbler chapter 21 . 7/9/14_**

That was, hands down, the most *ridiculous* set of events I could envision.

_**So far, that is: there are many more chapters to come... grin**_

It belongs on Disney Channel, in an actual episode of "Kim Possible". Everything, from Sheldon acting like the late Frank Gorshen on acid to Pepe going catatonic at the words "Global Justice", just screams This Should Have Been In An Episode Of "Kim Possible"!

_**It was...but they censored it before it could air. I was just lucky enough to get my hands on a copy of the script! ;-)**_

In other words, the author has captured the simultaneous seriousness and inherent silliness of the source material. AND managed to do justice to every one of the characters therein.

I kick myself for not catching it all in previous readings. Just goes to show you: never under-estimate the author.

_**Or trust him, either! As soon as you do, He'll trip you, pour a can of diet coke on your head, and give you a wedgie! (I've seen him do it!)**_

Onwards to the next chapter.

_**Here, let me walk behind you...R~13**_


	22. Interior

**Authors/Notes: **

**_The perspicacious Uberscribbler has pointed out an issue that no one else has caught since this chapter was originally posted back in 2011: namely that Ron cites his missions with Kim during his "conversation" with Shego in this chapter. I'm going to invoke the explanation that "Rufus" has already explained that he can only selectively edit Kim's importance in the landscape of Ron's memories (not erase her entirely) and that Ron may have more access to those suppressed portions while he is unconscious. At least, that's my excu-er-explaination for now. Good catch, Ubie!_**

* * *

**Required Disclaimer:** _Disney's Kim Possible is all theirs and not mine. I don't get no money. I don't get no respect. I can't get no…satisfaction…I can't get me no…satisfaction…and I try and I try and I try t-t-t-t-try try…I can't get no…(kill the songfic!)_

* * *

**Chapter Twenty Two – Interior**

**Ro~on…**

**Oh, Ro~on…**

_Mnsft._

**Ronnie is that you?**

_Mmmmmmmm_

**Where are you? Cripes it's dark in here! Ronniekins…?**

_Mmnnff._

**Time to wake up~**

_Jus nother twenty minnits, mom…s' Saturday~_

**Wakey, wakey; hands off snakey…**

_Huh…ewwww, Mo~om!_

**Not your Mommy, Ronnie-poo…**

…_who..?_

**It's Shego, Pants-boy. And if you're not getting up then I'm getting in with you. By the way, I'm naked.**

_Wahaaahohahhoo! I'm awake! I'm awake! Hey…why's it so dark?_

**I dunno. Because we're inside your head and you're still asleep.**

_What? Wait! What?_

**You fixed the reactor, Ron. You saved everyone. Don't you remember?**

_I didn't die?_

**You sound disappointed.**

There was a moment of silence. Then: _I'm really tired. I'd like to go back to sleep, now._

**Sorry, Sleeping Beauty, need you up and at 'em. What's it going to take? A kiss? Or a kick?**

_Gonna take a lot more than just one._

**Kisses?**

_Kicks. Go way now…_

**Dammit, Ron, people are going to die unless you help! And…and…that hurt my feelings…**

His sigh seemed to fill the darkness, the entire universe. _People are always gonna die. When Kim and I went to Europe, people were dying in Africa. When we went to Africa, people were dying in Asia. In Asia, they were dying in South America. And all the time, people were dying back home in Middleton. So…doesn't matter. People always dying…_

**Alright, so you can't save everybody. No one expects you to. You just save the ones you can. That's enough.**

_*!_

**Ron?**

_Shego giving me hero advice? And I hurt her feelings? The world must be coming to an end!_

**You know what I like about you, Stoppable?**

_What?_

_Um…_

_Er…_

_Shego?_

**Yeah, Ron?**

_What _do_ you like about me?_

**I'm still trying to think of something.**

_Okay, deserved that. Are we even, now?_

**Oh, absolutely…NOT! You took my fire, you, you plasma raper!**

_Borrowed. I borrowed it. For a good cause. The next time it's your turn to walk into a nuclear meltdown._

**Yeah? Borrowed? Good cause? Well, I got your good cause ****_right here!_**

_Oh man, I don't know whether to be relieved or incredibly sorry that I can't see in here._

**Head in the game, Stoppable!**

_What! What did you say?_

**I said: head in the game, Ron! Why?**

_I-I don't know. It just sounded so—so strangely familiar. Like something I'm used to hearing...from...some...one..._

**Well, I'm going to keep saying it until you comply! Head. In. The. Game!**

_Wow, I can't imagine anyone else owning that phrase the way you do._

Shego chuckled. **Seriously, Ron, turnabout is fair play. Especially for a good cause. The power is out all over the hospital. Patients in surgery, in the intensive care unit, those people are likely dying right now without the equipment to keep them on life support until they can make it on their own. There was a time when I might have plugged myself into the secondaries and powered the emergency backups until the current was restored…**

_I'm listening._

**Bad guy set off a low-yield EMP. Probably fried the electronics in a three block radius. I'm still not up to full power—nowhere near, in fact. But, even if I was, the pulse probably nuked a bunch of chips and circuits. Turning on the juice isn't going to help that.**

_Still listening._

**I don't know how your blue mojo works, Stoppable, but I do know that when we work together, the result is greater than the sum of our separate parts. I know that there's a ****_constructive_**** component of your power in addition to its destructive side. And I'd like to try another temporary…partnership…to see if maybe we could get the lifesaving equipment back on line before we blow this Popsicle stand.**

_An intriguing idea, Sheila, and one that might be worth rolling the dice…if I was Wade. I'm no electronics expert. Aside from a little basic theory and bare bones knowledge of how to wire a house for alternating current, I wouldn't have a clue as to how to work around stepped DC and a printed-circuit board._

**Maybe, but I think a lot of your mojo is intuitive. Even unconscious. Coupled with my know-how, we might have a shot.**

_In other words…you want me to provide the wheels and you want to drive._

**Yeah. As good a way of putting it as any, I guess.**

_So, how do we do this?_

**Like last time.**

_*?_

**When we had a three-story building on top of us?**

_I was kind of out of it at that point._

**Well, you just let go. I—uh—want you to let go, again.**

_I let go because I passed out. I don't know if I can let go if I'm still conscious._

**That's good because I want you conscious. I think I need you to be conscious this time around.**

_Then tell me what you want me to do._

**I want…um…**

_Sheila?_

**I want you to…uh…I'm trying to think of a better way to put this…**

_Just say it._

**I think I need you to come inside me…**

_*!_

**Ron?**

_Aw, man! You have got to know how dirty that sounds, right?_

There was a flash of light in the darkness.

Shego stood there with both hands in clenched fists and burning like emerald Tiki torches. **You want to repeat that, Stoppable?**

_Oh man, you weren't kidding! You really are naked!_

**Eeep!** The flames snuffed out and all was dark again. **Ron, you perv!**

_Hey, you're the one who stuck their head into mine uninvited. But seriously, if people are dying, I'll do whatever you want. Just walk me through it, okay?_

**I-I'm going to touch you, okay?**

_Okay._

**Here's my hand. Can you reach out and take it?**

_I think so. As long as I pretend there's really a hand there and not some psychological construct that has no real existence in the spatial universe._

**You ****_are_**** Ron Stoppable, right? The kid I'm thinking of would never use terms like "psychological construct" and "spatial universe" much less understand them.**

_Hey, I read science fiction. Ah, got you. Now what?_

**We come closer. And touch.**

_Okay, touching…touching…oops! Sorry._

**Don't think. Just do. Now we embrace. Hey, ****_you're_**** naked!**

_Now who's the perv?_

**Head in the ga—hey! ****_Other_**** head!**

_Watch what you're grabbing, Minty Fresh!_

**Don't make me light up, again!**

_I don't like to smoke until afterwards._

**Were you always this funny, Stoppable?**

_Yeah, but finding a different way to lose my pants each mission is some of my best work._

**Well, help me out with this and I'll help you out with losing your pants the next time.**

_Are the pants you're talking about psychological constructs or do they exist in the spatial universe?_

**Are you…bantering?**

_Are you?_

***?**

_*!_

**C'mere!**

_Ooooh! That's…_

…**nice!**

_So…are __these__ psychological const—?_

**Will you focus!**

_Will you stop putting ideas in my—?_

**Head in the—**

_Don't tell me where to put my head! I'll put it…o~oh…okay, then._

**There. See? Now, put this…here…**

_And now?_

**Not yet. Wait until I'm ready…**

_That's what all the girls say to me._

**I am ****_so_**** gonna punish you when this is all over!**

_I don't mind as long as you wear that little leather number you keep hidden in the back of your closet._

**WHAT! How did you—I mean, what the hell are you talking about?**

_All those times Kim and I got into your lair through the ventilation ducts? Your closet has this big vent—"_

**Punishment later! Focus now!**

The power between them began to build.

**I'm visualizing the concepts of the kinds of equipment you'd find in a hospital.**

_You're not being very specific._

**I'm trying not to. I think the less specific I can be, beyond the general concepts them selves, the more likely that we can tap into the universal unconsciousness to fill in the gaps. We're trying to heal something non-biological, rather than trace each microcircuit with a soldiering gun and—**

What ar' you doing?

**Well, like I was saying, we are trying to heal the circuits rather than repair them.**

_Um, I didn't say anything. That wasn't me._

**What wasn't you?**

'E isn't moi.

**Huh?**

_Maybe the universal unconsciousness you were trying to tap, woke up._

What 'ave you done? Ze electronics—so much destruction!

_We didn't do it. We're trying to fix it._

'oo are you?

**Hey, who are you?**

_Ladies! We've got people to save and electronics to heal. Hair-pulling afterwards._

**You're right. Look, we need to concentrate on fixing this. Unless you know something about electronics, please let us focus on undoing the damage that asshole Gemini did with his EMP.**

But I do know somesing about electronics. How is it you think you can—how you say—heal—zis damage?"

**It's too hard to explain. We both have power—two different kinds of power—that I think we can combine to create a hardware reboot. I am going to try to create a focus through the universal unconsciousness in hopes of finding some harmonic resonance that might substitute for my own limitations and lack of specific knowledge—**

I can be your focus if you will let me.

_That's nice of you, ma'am, but we're talking about channeling some dangerous levels of energy. You could get hurt._

By powers that you say will heal? Delicate electronic circuitry?

_She's got a point._

**One shot. If it's not working, you'll need to step back and let us try a different focus. Even if time is moving faster in "here" than out "there" we will need to act quickly.**

Zo, 'ow do I present for your focus?

**Take my hand—**

I assume you mean the psychological construct as opposed to the actual spatial appendage.

_Aw, man! She was eavesdropping!_

**Here. Oh. It tingles!**

_I can see…patterns._

**Disruptions.**

_Angry. Painful. Need to make smooth. Soothe._

Ooooooooo.

**Amp up a little. We'll need to open these blockages.**

Ahh. There. And there. And he~re!

_Gently…not too fast, yet. If we take it nice and slow first, we can speed up and be a little more forceful when…_

Now! Yes! Push harder! I'm opening…up…

**Oh my God! I can feel that!**

_More power. Feed me Shego!_

Here, take this.

_Ah, yes…that's working…but…not plasma. Shego?_

Non.

**Oh, oh my.**

_Almost there._

**Oh MY!**

When I say now, you must both release, togezer. As one.

_You'll need to move. I'm afraid we'll flood you._

Eet is all right. I can handle what you have.

**Better not. I'm the only one who intends to handle what he has.**

_Focus, Jolly Green! I don't need to be distracted now._

Now.

**Now?**

Now! Now!

**Oh.**

_Aaargh!_

**Huhn…uhn!**

Ahhhhhhhhhh!

The darkness flickered around them, through them.

**I…I think it worked.**

Oui. It did. I did not know that there were uhzers…even you.

**What? You know me?**

Oui. And who is ze uhzer?

**Who? Stoppable?**

_Ron_ Stoppable?

**Yes. Ron? Ron!**

_Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz._

**Damn. I think we wore him out.**

* * *

**ABOUT THE TITLE: "Interior" references the writing term "interior monologue" which is essentially the narrative of what a character is thinking. Interior: inside the character's head.**

* * *

**Authors/Notes 2:**

**_So now you know what was going on inside Ron's head while the lights were flickering at the end of Chapter 21. I hope the interior dialogue wasn't too confusing, given the lack of visuals and description. I tried to work the material so that you could pretty much "see" what was going on…with the exception of the grunting, groaning and moaning at the end—I'll leave that completely to your (dirty) imaginations!_**

**_I was going to add another scene or two but decided to keep the chapter confined to the inside of Ron's head._**

* * *

**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 22**

_Escapism Artist 6/18/11 . chapter 22_

Man I'm laughing my ass off and confused as he'll at the same time . This is my first review for your story, and so far I like it a lot. Surprised you don't have more review, but then again kim possible is an over looked.

P.S. I'm voting for harem.

I agree with harbinger's choices for the harem, tho I will say I'd Prefer it to be Anne, not Kim. Just Ron and the Women. :) maybe throw in Betty too.

**_Thanks! I always appreciate the time a reader takes to leave a comment—positive or negative. I don't know if the lack or response is from low numbers of readers or I'm just not engaging people out there. Too much? Too little? I'm rather surprised at the number of requests for a "harem" arrangement. It wasn't something I originally considered approaching and certainly not "in-depth" as I don't know how that could work realistically—not without jealousy and hurt feelings and a whole lot of attitude adjustment (on Ron's part as well as the ladies). But things keep evolving in unexpected ways and reader pressure drives a certain amount of that so you never know… R~13_**

* * *

_sh8ad8ow 6/18/11 . chapter 22_

great chapter

**_Thanks again, man (hums a few bars of "Me and My Shadow") R~13_**

* * *

_CajunBear73 6/18/11 . chapter 22_

Interesting back and forth while Ron and Shego 'joined' to save those folks. Wonder if Shego's going to rip his clothes off and ravish him or just rip them off just for fun.

_**Fun, either way…**_

And quite the surprise at the visitor to their repair job. And she's got her own sparks to add to this mix too?

_**But is she AC or DC?**_

CB73

Still holding out for Ron and Kim... So there.

**_No one should count Kim out before this epic tale is done. Of course, no one should count anyone else out, either… ;-) R~13_**

* * *

_Pavelius 6/18/11 . chapter 22_

Hmm.. let me guess... Electronique?

_**Yes!**_

Quite the mess here... lots of women and only one Ron... lets see how you are going to solve this..

anyway.. interesting chapter and quite amusing dialogue inside the heads...

Keep it up

Pavel

**_Solve this? What do you mean "solve"? Is these some kind of problem? ;-) R~13_**

* * *

_elyk36 6/19/11 . chapter 22_

very well done keep it going

**_Oh man: can't stop now. That just wouldn't be right! R~13_**

* * *

_AnonReader 8/19/11 . chapter 22_

Ron/Harem...and involve Kim please.

**_You guys just can't keep asking for a "harem" without detailing how that would actually work...and with whom. Speaking of who—I keep hearing this name "Kim" bandied about…is this someone I should know about? R~13_**

* * *

_Sentinel 103 12/9/12 . chapter 22_

ZZZZZZZZZZZ yeah ya wore him out between Electronique and Shego...and after Gemini's goons got stomped...

ST-103

**_Yeah, how can a "harem" story even be practical if only two of the ladies wear him out and he's sleeping through the whole thing? On the other hand, that might make a better story: Ron stays asleep and the ladies handle things. _**

**_I mean deal with the villains, ya pervs! R~13_**

* * *

_Some Dude 8/26/13 . chapter 22 _

The ending to this chapter was great...I love the double innuendo.

**_Shhhhhhh...what happens in Ron's head, stays in Ron's head. ;-) R~13_**

* * *

**_Ken106348 chapter 22 . 7/8/14_**

I'm a little confused lol awesome story so far cant wait for next update

_**Gee, Ken, most of my readers are more than a little confused! (LOL) I'll try to get that next update out right away! R~13**_


	23. Convergence

**Authors/Notes: _Okay, we spent the entirety of last chapter inside Ron's head. This chapter will take a little break from Ron's hospital misadventures to catch up with what's going on with some of our other cast members...fear not: Ron Stoppable will be back in the next chapter-even if he is still unconscious._**

* * *

**Required Disclaimer:** _You know the sitch: this is a work of fanfiction created for entertainment purposes only. The author implies no ownership of the characters or properties of Disney, no money has been exchanged, no movie rights sold…although Ron has offered to "hook me up" when this is over…_

* * *

**Chapter Twenty Three – Convergence**

Her shower had taken longer than she'd planned so now she was running late.

Amelia didn't regret spending the additional time under the jets of hot water. Following her roommate's instructions to the letter, she had dutifully washed Karen's car out in the parking lot, wearing short shorts and a tee shirt. Even though the air was still cool this time of the year, she had warmed up quickly with the physical exertion. On her third trip back to the car with a fresh bucket of water, she stopped to knot the soft cotton top beneath her breasts.

Leaning across the wet hood to clean the windshield she managed to dampen the flimsy material making it considerably less opaque. Bending over to dunk her sponge on the bucket, she could look back between her legs and see that the impromptu touch football game (that had come together in the field next to the parking lot shortly after she started) would grind to a halt while her posterior was pointing at "ten o'clock."

_Okay_, she thought, _I've always been able to turn men's heads—without even trying. So what was the point of this exercise? Maybe Karen just wanted her car washed._

_Or maybe it was about taking her game to the next level…_

Sure, she was attractive. And 'attractive' worked for a lot of guys.

But Ron Stoppable was not just a lot of guys. And if Bitch Bonnie "Rottweiler" had her hooks in him, Amelia was going to have to bring her A-Game to get him back.

Especially since she had never really had him in the first place!

But he _had_ tried to ask her out once! She didn't really remember that—it had been a couple or three years back in high school and the only reason she was aware of it at all was due to the fact that there had been witnesses and she was listed on the immensely popular _Ron Stoppable MyFace_ page as one of his "social picks."

So, if he had asked her out once, maybe he wouldn't object to that door reopening…

Of course, Bonnie wouldn't be the only competition now. That _MyFace_ page was getting upwards of ten thousand hits an hour!

So, she had to be more than 'attractive.' She needed to be _devastating! _

She would have to _crush_ the competition!

Up until that moment, the car wash had been a "PG" shading into "PG-13" performance…

…it quickly turned in a hard "R" rating by the time she was done—crawling all over the chassis and using her own sudsy clothing as a wiggling, writhing chamois while striking a series of jaw-dropping poses.

By then, three dormitories had emptied and the crowd at the edge of the parking lot was ten deep.

It wasn't until she had walked past the cheering, screaming, applauding mob and the multiple offers for additional wash and wax jobs (some of them coming in at three and four figures!), and re-entered her dorm that she realized that she was freezing. And those "two points" that Karen had mentioned were like ice picks, trying to puncture the soaked cotton tee.

So she took a little longer with the hot water now and then spent even more time on her hair and make up.

By the time she was back downstairs and walking across campus, the word had spread and she made her way to the Upperton University Gymnasium with an entourage of well over three hundred male admirers.

**RSVP**

"You were gone a long time. Did you hack the hospital patient records as I commanded you to?"

The azure-skinned woman in the Tron-ish looking jumpsuit had just entered the war room where Mastermind sat on the floating throne before a bank of video screens. "Oui, Mistress…"

"And…?"

"Ze patient database has no listing of a patient named Ronald Stoppable."

"Did you look for any irregularities? Records over the last forty-eight hours that might suggest a patient brought in under an alias?"

"I—I was unable to do a thorough analysis because ze hospital experienced a power outage."

"Well, maybe you should get over there, then."

"Pardon?"

Mastermind sighed. "If you can't fix the hospital's power problems long distance or from your computer terminal, Electronique, then you need to get close enough to work 'hands on.' I have intel that Ron Stoppable is returning to this country from Japan. While I do not have his itinerary, I suspect he will eventually return to his home town. The last report I had was that he was unconscious—"

The woman with the cabled hair looked up. "Unconscious?"

"They say he went into a nuclear plant to stop a reactor from melting down. If my source is to be believed, the radiation should have killed him. Unfortunately, it did not so it is left to us to accomplish what particle physics has so ineptly failed to achieve.

"Zo, once again Ronald Stoppable has done what no uhzer human being could do and saved millions of people."

Mastermind frowned. "What are you saying, Electronique?"

"Nuhsing, Mistress. Only that ze odds of our being able to overcome such a being seem to be very small."

"You let me worry about that. You are not the only piece on the chessboard. I am the mastermind; you are only the hired muscle. Do you understand?"

"Oui, Mistress."

"And stop calling me 'mistress.' Even if we are alone, you could forget and slip up in front of others some day. My identity must remain a secret until Team Possible is utterly destroyed. Not just for my safety but for my family, as well. Call me master or mastermind or sir, just as you would before others, until my grand scheme is complete."

"Oui, Mi-master."

"Good. Now, get over to the hospital and do whatever you have to do to get that database back up and running. If they bring Stoppable to Middleton General, there will never be a better time to kill him than while he's still unconscious!"

**RSVP**

Inside the Upperton U. Gym the Greek Spring Fling was in full swing with decorations, dancing, refreshments, and music.

Activity booths were set up around the three walls that weren't backing the stage.

One of those booths was an old fashioned "kissing booth," an almost ancient tradition of fairs and carnivals harkening as far back as the 1800s.

Amelia made her way across the crowded gym floor waving to some friends here and many, many new admirers there. As she reached the larger than average booth with its five lines of waiting patrons, she was intercepted by her roommate Karen, wearing—as usual—her trademarked blue ensemble.

"Okay, I'm here," Amelia told her roommate. "Ready to get my 'kiss on'."

"Now remember what I told you," the plain yet compelling girl told the gorgeous co-ed. "No two people kiss the same. And when two people come together in a perfect kiss, it's because both of them come out of their own, personal, lip style and meet the other person half way into a new, shared, alternate inter-oscular joining. You don't kiss like them and they don't kiss like you—anymore than you kiss like you and they kiss like them."

"Um…what?"

"You start from your respective positions and adapt to meet the other so that your two styles merge into a third," Karen elaborated. "Thesis and antithesis become synthesis. Do you understand, my apprentice?"

"I'm going to learn how to be a better kisser by kissing a lot of guys today," Amelia translated.

"Oversimplified and lacking an appreciation for the subtleties involved but you've succinctly stated the core principle. Lots of girls and guys just put their lips into it and don't really learn how to adapt to their partner's needs—even well into an established relationship. Today, you are going to attempt to create the perfect kiss—distinct and infinitely different for each partner—and you are going to have to assess and adapt within seconds as your time and experience with each partner will be extremely limited."

"How do I do that?" Amelia asked.

"You will have to fine tune your sexual chakra and open up your ki. You must become one, Kisser and Kissee! Trust _The Force_, my young padawan!" She took the tall brunette by the arms and turned her toward the Kissing Booth. "Now get in there and move those lips! Practice makes perfect!" She swatted Amelia on her rear, propelling her toward the painted plywood hutch.

**RSVP**

"Hey Mom!"

"What's wrong?" asked an eerily identical voice.

Anne looked up from the muddy depths of her cooling cup of coffee. "Jim? Tim? I didn't hear you come in."

The twins looked at their mother and mutually decided not to point out that she looked pretty zoned out.

"That's because we were—"

"—in ninja stealth mode!"

She smiled tiredly. "Well, I must say you're very good at it."

"Not as good as the guys—"

"—who've been watching our house!"

"You mean the paparazzi? They're probably hiding because of that court order we filed a few months ago." She took a drink of coffee and spit the lukewarm liquid back into the cup.

"We don't think—"

"—they're the press!"

"Listen, boys," she said, her mind on other things, "can I trust you with a secret? It's about Ron."

**RSVP**

Five other women were already inside the booth which was wide enough to accommodate five abreast quite comfortably but not very deep so things already felt a bit crowded.

Amelia recognized four of the girls right away: Ron had asked each of them out for the high school prom once.

Courtney Loop wore her signature gold hoop earrings and red barrette in her wavy dark brown hair cut to the bottoms of her ears.

Julia Roberts (no relation to the movie star—though she was prettier) wore her light brown hair down past her shoulders.

Maria Rodriguez also wore her hair long but with bangs.

Natasha Putin (she wouldn't say if she was related or not) had her dark, curly hair pushed back and up into a wavy cloud around her head with a mauve-colored hair band.

They were all standing in a row at the front of the booth, collecting five-dollar bills and kissing customers who had progressed to the front of their respective queues.

_They're all tall, pretty, and brunette_, Amelia thought. _Maybe Ron has a type. If that's it, I'm his perfect match!_

The fifth woman stood at the back of the booth, watching and taking notes. She was a blonde and in her forties; pretty but with lines under her eyes indicating that she was no young co-ed. Amelia vaguely remembered her as being on TV sometime in the past.

"You must be Amelia," the older woman said, extending her hand. "I'm Summer Gale."

"Oh yes, I remember you. You're a weather lady, right?"

"Well, actually I'm a journalist. I work in Print, now. The camera loves young faces and…well…I've moved on—_up_—to columns and editorials. I'm doing a feature on the many loves of Ronald Stoppable and I'd like to interview you."

Amelia put her hand to her chest. "Me?"

"Well, you and the other girls here. I understand that he dated all of you at some point…"

Amelia stepped forward and leaned in. "He asked those other girls out _once_," she murmured sotto voce. "_They_ turned him down. I was the only one who—um—actually was—er—_with_ Ron for any amount of time. I could speak to you at greater length after I'm done here…" She nodded to the fifth line that was waiting for her. "…perhaps some place more _private_?"

Ms. Gale smiled. "Of course. I can wait. I'll buy you dinner afterwards and I can get your exclusive then."

"S-sure," Amelia said, turning away and stepping up to her place at the front of the booth.

Natasha eyed her sideways as she finished her current kiss. "Five dollars, five seconds," she said, with a disapproving tone in her voice.

Amelia wondered if it was because she overheard her comment to the newswoman or the fact that her own line was twice as long as the other four girls' lines. "And what if a guy hands me a twenty? Do I go twenty seconds?"

She shook her head with an annoyed frown. "Nyet. Give him change or four five-second kisses. No tongues!"

Amelia smirked. "When you've kissed Ron Stoppable, there are no rules!" _I'm here to learn_, she thought as she turned to her first customer, _I'm here to experiment…the next time I put my lips on my Pink Sloth, he'll never want to kiss anyone else again…_

Her first customer stepped forward waving a ten dollar bill: she was tall and lanky with short brown hair cut in a boyish style.

"Are you sure you're in the right line?" Amelia asked, looking from the girl to the guy beside her who was obviously unhappy about her being there.

"Your lips have touched Ron Stoppable's, right?" she chirped. "Then I have to put mine there, too. Can you kiss like he does?" she asked, closing her eyes.

**RSVP**

Jessica worked the yellow scrunchie up her long blonde tresses until her hair was pulled straight back and gathered at the base of her neck. Then the former Middleton cheerleader picked up a large elastic bandage roll and turned to Liz. "Stop staring and help me with this," she told her former cheermate. "This is your idea, after all."

"For which I am paying you handsomely," the redhead said as she helped the blonde wrap her upper torso to flatten out her breasts.

"I don't know that I'd call fifty bucks a handsome amount. I think I want to renegotiate my terms," Jessica argued as they safety-pinned the end of the elastic to an earlier fold. "I want a bonus for this."

"You agreed to fifty," Liz said, handing her a black pullover shirt with long sleeves. She helped Jessica pull the shirt carefully over her head and tuck the scrunchie beneath the crewneck collar. "But you do get a bonus."

"I do?" The blonde girl pulled a red jersey on and checked her chest then the way her hair fell beneath the back collar, again. "How much?"

"A lot!" Liz enthused.

Jessica lit up: "Great!" Then her face fell. "Wait. We're not talking about _money_, here, are we?"

"Better than money!" Liz grinned. "We're gonna piss off Bonnie!"

"A lot…" Jessica realized.

"A lot!" her friend agreed.

"Wow! When I think about it, I'd almost do it for free!" _And it cuts down on the competition for me_, she thought privately.

"Well—"

"I said: 'almost,' Liz."

**RSVP**

Elle tucked her hair into her rubber-lined hoodie, zipped up, and grabbed a pair of oversized sunglasses before heading down to the garage. Distracted, she nearly missed a step and sparks flew as she grabbed the metal handrail to catch herself.

_What had happened?_

How had she gotten herself into this situation? She had effectively _lied_ to Mastermind twice. She had lied by implying that the database was still down _and_ she had failed to admit that she had personal information regarding Ron Stoppable's whereabouts.

And now she was making an unnecessary trip to the hospital to cover for her dishonesty and buy some time.

_Dishonesty_. She almost laughed.

She was a _criminal_.

A wanted fugitive.

If she wanted to survive, she _had_ to lie.

Cheat.

Steal.

She couldn't have a normal life. Not now. Not after _The Accident_. She had to do whatever it took to get by. To survive. To stay out of prison. Even if it meant working with someone like…

Elle shuddered as she entered the motor pool and snagged a set of keys from the key box. She hadn't done so well on her own the last couple of times. And every time they'd caught her, they'd done a better job of redesigning her containment cell. If they caught her again she wouldn't do time as a prison inmate; she'd be confined like a bug in a glass bottle, isolated, and put away on a distant shelf.

Her life was lonely enough with her so-called freedom…

And so the meld had shaken her to her very core.

Sitting at her computer, hacking the hospital records, she had instinctively sent tendrils of awareness through the internet connection when the hospital's power went down, looking to see if there was any way to bring the database back up. Discovering other minds at work within the circuitry had shocked and thrilled her. She was even more stunned to discover that one of those minds belonged to Shego, former hero turned villain turned hero once more.

Although she had long held the green-hued woman to be an adversary, there was an undeniable fascination for her as well. Elle felt they had much in common. Both were outcasts, both had freakishly colored skin. Both had inhuman powers, powers that made them dangerous. Powers that frightened most men away.

And the men that were drawn to them, only seemed to want them for how those powers could be turned to their own use. It often seemed as if she and Shego were nothing more than tools, weapons, chess pieces—to be picked up or discarded at the whims of others. Valued for their powers of destruction, Elle knew that only the Destroyers saw them as fit companions…and then only in a subservient role.

But if Elle was surprised by the two intellects she discovered in the meld, she was even more shocked by the emotion.

Genuine affection.

Mutual respect.

And powers joined together to heal, not hurt.

Give, not take.

And Ron Stoppable…

She had seen his dark side unleashed, once before, when she had turned the attitudinator on Team Go. This was—according to underworld scuttlebutt—before he had come into his own powers.

Even as an un-enhanced human, he had held his own against those super-powered mutants and would have taken them all down had not his better nature been restored before it was too late. Since then he had developed some sort of blue glow—at least that's what it looked like on those grainy phone video postings on the internet—and looked like he was able to turn back an alien invasion without breaking a sweat.

Elle shivered. But under the sudden chill there was a warm tingle of interest.

All that power…

But he didn't use it selfishly. He hadn't used it to set himself over others. He hadn't indulged himself by taking what he wanted because he could.

And while he lacked proper focus, he could heal _electronics!_

She used to think that she and Shego shared certain traits. But their individual abilities to channel different types of energy was only the grossest form of similarity compared to this! A mutual…did she dare call it…simpatico...with electrical systems?

She felt the heat rising to her cheeks as she recalled the easy banter, the sexual tension between the two of them. If the women's prison gossip was to be believed, Shego's experience with men had paralleled her own. But if this young man, this…godling…coming into his unimaginable powers…could flirt and not be repulsed by a woman of unnatural hue and freakish aspect…then…perhaps…

She shook her head trying to clear out the seductive, hopeful thoughts creeping into her mind.

She was a toad compared to Shego. She was an escaped convict and Shego was one of the planet's heroes, pardoned of all crimes.

Electronique had cast her lot with Mastermind and that bitch would hunt her down and destroy her the moment she got wind of her subterfuge or betrayal.

_So why was she buying time like this? _

The database was back up. Go back and tell Mastermind there was a suspicious "admit" in the records and let her take it from there. She'd send one of her minions to finish him off while he was still relatively helpless.

Except…

The minion she'd most likely send would be Electronique.

The shapeshifter wasn't really suited for anything other than infiltration and Intelligence gathering. Mastermind didn't really trust that creepy ninja and his crew. The crazy Scotsman was somewhere off on some assignment. And the short, loud guy with the helmet was holed up in the lab with that weird monkey-lady, working on some secret project.

The logical assassin would be the freak who could shoot electricity out of her hands and body. Never mind that she hadn't actually killed anybody, yet.

At least on purpose. Elle bowed her head against the steering wheel as a solitary tear whispered down her cerulean cheek.

_What if Ron Stoppable was her cure? What if he could undo what The Accident had done to her body? If he had the power to heal damaged circuits…as well as physical injuries as was rumored…what would happen if he laid his hands on her?_

Stop!

There was a thought that could easily lead down an all too distracting road.

Even if he…laid hands on her…it would be out of pity. And to heal.

_Only _to heal.

If he harbored any other interests in odd colored women, it would be for the one he was already melded with. Never mind her stunning beauty, Elle had felt their bond even as they opened it a little to her. Ron had been reluctant because he feared that Elle might come to harm. Shego had been reluctant because she wanted to claim him for her own and didn't want anyone else to come close enough to distract him.

Well, Shego didn't need to worry. _She_ had him.

And he must surely want her: who wouldn't?

All that Elle could hope for was his pity and a chance to be human once more.

She sat up and turned the key in the ignition. "But what if he wouldn't?

Or couldn't?

It didn't matter: if she stayed with Mastermind, sooner or later—probably sooner—she _would_ end up a murderer.

_The Accident_ had made her a freak.

But she would try very hard to not let it make her a monster.

**RSVP**

Professor Dementor shivered as he watched Dr. Amy Hall hug her half-simian "boyfriend."

The features of Lord Montgomery Fiske remained slack and emotionless even as DNAmy's face radiated pure bliss over his overly hairy presence.

"Isn't this just so exciting, Snookums?" she asked him as she dragged him across the lab for another stint with the electron microscope.

Fiske, of course, made no response as he stumbled along in her wake.

Most men wouldn't—or couldn't, Dementor thought to himself. They'd be frightened out of their minds. Or stunned by revulsion. Or, at the very least, would be unable to get a word in edgewise as the mad geneticist seemed to talk non-stop once she got going.

But none of these, Dementor knew, were the real reason behind Monkey Fist's silence.

It went way beyond the usual "creepy quotient" that he'd come to associate with Dr. Hall.

It was because the would-be Monkey Master was…dead.

If the stories were to be believed, his body had been turned to stone and was plunged deep into the bowels of the earth beyond all hopes of recovery.

The thing that the madwoman dragged about with her was an unholy cross between a clone, a synthodrone, and one of her monstrous Cuddle Buddies. However she had cobbled it together, it was damaged in some way for it evinced no personality and was never heard to speak.

Almost as frightening was the design up on the computer screens of her latest genetic abomination.

The creature looked like some insane taxidermist had cut up a bear, a wolf, and a giant rabbit and then stitched them back together into a freakish monstrosity that was the stuff of nightmares.

Dementor fought the urge to ask if such a chimera could actually be brought to viable life: he'd seen more unlikely designs emerge from DNAmy's genetic splicer. But, for possibly the first time, Dr. Hall was being called upon to create something with a practical purpose. He shivered again: he didn't want to think about what purposes might be served by the FrankenFist creature.

"Demenz," he heard her call his name and only barely repressed a shudder this time. "Before I can finish Mastermind's Hidenseeker for him, I'm going to need something with Justine Flanner's DNA on it."

He clicked his heels together and executed a neat Prussian bow. "I um onto it!" He whirled and left the lab quickly, visions of the nightmare creature coming out of the splicer with the Flanner girl's face.

_Nein,_ he reminded himself. The DNA would be chemically introduced as the creature's olfactory organs were calibrated. Mastermind had ordered a monster that was designed to hunt down the girl who had escaped with the Transdimensional Vortex Inducer.

**RSVP**

Fukushima watched with extreme interest as the station wagon pulled into the driveway of the Stoppable home. The parents of his hated adversary got out and began to unload the vehicle. And what was this? They had a Japanese toddler with them!

The disgraced ninja scowled. And, slowly, his expression of anger and distaste turned into a smile. "Kuso kurae Mastermind!" he murmured. "I will draw the _gaijin_ out of his hidey hole!

And then his worthless life and the Lotus Blade will be mine!"

* * *

**ABOUT THE TITLE: The definition of "Convergence" ****is "****the act of ****converging**** and especially moving toward union or uniformity." Divergent elements in this chapter and starting to come together in ways that will prove to be…explosive. **

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**Author's/Notes 2:**

_**First of all, for all of you who freaked at the news that Mastermind is a "she" and not a "he"—assuming that we can trust Electronique—I'd like to say "Thank You!" **_

_**I want to entertain you and keep you guessing somewhat. If you can figure it all out ahead of time then I must be getting lazy with the plot and the set-ups. On the other hand, it's important to play fair and leave some bread crumbs throughout the story so that when something is revealed, you're still surprised but can nod and say: "Yeah, I can see where the signs and clues were building up to this." For example, long before the reveal that Camille Leon was acting on Mastermind's behalf, we have a very shady "Will Du" promising someone named "Debutante" that it wouldn't be much longer and then Mastermind reminding "Du" that he had hostages. A bit obscure, perhaps, but once Camille is revealed to be a player, the reference seems obvious. And I apparently left enough bread crumbs for some of you to figure out the shard from the Tempus Simia in Betty's pocket. **_

_**With the reveal that MM is female, I have now provided 3 clues as to our villain's identity—although the other two are even more obscure. If anyone can figure it out at this point I will actually be disappointed. So, for now, I will not "publicly" respond to any guesses—wouldn't want to spoil it for the others, ya know… **_

_**Regarding the other four girls in the kissing booth: they all appeared in the episode "Crush" albeit in photographic form as Ron explains to Kim who Josh had turned down for dates to the MHS Spirit Dance (and who had subsequently turned Ron down as well.) And, of course, Summer Gale who appeared in the episode "Day of the Snowmen."**_

* * *

**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 23**

_CajunBear73 6/21/11 . chapter 23_

Some new light shed on who may be the Mind behind this twisted tale. And it's not you, alright? LOL!

But Electronique seems to be at a crossroad here regarding her life and that of Ron Stoppable. Hope she makes the right decision and if she does jump sides, she can tell who is behind all this horrible drama.

The Tweebs seem to be cluing Anne in on some unknowns taking place at their home and maybe they can get a leg up on Fukushima. But he seems about to strike too.

CB73

**_Maybe you're right: I am the mastermind—behind Mastermind! R~13_**

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_Pavelius 6/21/11 . chapter 23_

Oi... you got me completly baffled... who the f*** is Mastermind? The female suprized me... i thought for some chapters it is Gemini... but he got ransacked by Betty..

_**Heh: "ransacked…" I like that!**_

Hmmm... i am really looking forward to her exposure...

And it was Electronique...

For Hana... i hope she kicks Fukushimas ass ;)

Keep it up, Pavel

**_Of course Hana has her part to play. But like most two to three-year-olds, she's on her own schedule and won't do anything until she's good and ready! Lol! R~13_**

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_sh8ad8ow 6/21/11 . chapter 23_

good chapter please update soon.

**_As always, your wish is my command. R~13_**

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_Feudor 6/22/11 . chapter 23_

I do hope a small review might encourage you to not abandon RSVP.

_**Reviews or any other feedback from readers is always encouraging.**_

I find it very interesting and well written, and I do want to know how it will turn out.

_**Me too! (Actually, I know how it's supposed to turn out. I'm just afraid that I've forgotten how to get there…)**_

About the title; I just took it as the standard abbreviation for "Repondez S'il Vous Plait"; indicating that there are a lot of girls who want Ron to give an answer; preferably "yes".

But that is perhaps too simple?

Feudor

_**Ah, Pavelius guessed pretty much the same thing after Chapter 21. You're both pretty close but with one word's difference. The answer is in the title of the very next chapter. R~13**_

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_masterbow 8/20/11 . chapter 23_

i think ron and kim should be together and if not ron should be by himself. are we going to see any of gill he is ron's enemy no one else has ever stopped him.

_**Ah, another Kim/Ron fan: your vote is tallied. And yes, we will see Gill, as well as the Seniors, and…and…well, wait and see. R~13**_

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_fred06 8/20/11 . chapter 23_

_kp and ron_

**_And another Kim/Ron! Maybe I should reconsider my plans to kill her off…(heh, just kidding…maybe…) R~13_**

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_the dark master 8/20/11 . chapter 23_

nice story I must see more as far as the parring goes ron harem

**_And now we're back to the other end of the spectrum! R~13_**

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_rod87 8/20/11 . chapter 23_

i really like this story and would love to read Fukushima and ron fight also to see ron reunite with kim

_**If you've read to Chapter 32 in the previous postings, you already know the answer to whether Ron battles Fukushima, if this is your 1st go round I'd rather not spoil it. As for Ron and Kim reuniting? Keep reading…R~13**_

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_Harbinger Of Kaos 8/20/11 . chapter 23_

I will start off by saying the following...FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING THAT IS GOOD AND HOLY DO NOT KILL LIZ AND JESSICA AGAIN. Give them a chance for crying out loud!

That said i vote for Harem, members are Shego, Vivian, Betty and Amelia.

_**Erm, kill Liz and Jessica again? I haven't even killed them for the first time, yet. And, define: "kill".**_

**_On the other hand, thank you for being more specific in choosing "harem". R~13_**

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_Sentinel103 2/17/12 . chapter 23_

Hummm maybe Amelia is getting more of an education than she originally thought...but I never would that expected her to need a coach.

So Anne told the twins something? And Mastermind knows that Ron is returning? Where the hell is the security, crimony who's running this show...the Three Stooges?

So Electrical girl has purposes on many levels here, and Ron's social network page went viral? If he only knew and had that going on when he was fifteen...

And a lot of Ron's old 'girl friends' are lining up...crud blond boy, if you only knew.

So you have a lot going on here and about a million chapters later a shrivled up Ron exits a small house trying to sneak away and get on a flight back to Japan where he can live like a monk in the mountains around Yamounchi.

Larry (Sentinel 103)

**_Doggone it, Larry! You're not supposed to give away the surprise, secret ending! ;-)_**

_**As for Amelia's need for a coach? I've known some stunningly beautiful women who were incredibly insecure at their core. But I think I'll address the matter in a little more detail, a little further in. Amelia needs a little more opening up... R~13**_

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_CelticPheonix 7/2/13 . chapter 23_

Good story, good chapter.  
Please make the pairing Ron/Shego. It makes sense and it looks like you're leaning there already.  
CPheonix

**_Leaning? More like wobbling! ;-) R~13_**

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_Some Dude 8/26/13 . chapter 23 _

good chapter.

**_Thanks! R~13_**

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**_Ken106348 chapter 23 . 7/9/14_**

not a bad chapter can't wait for the next installment.

_**Thanks Ken! You praise me with faint damn! ;-) R~13**_


	24. Ron, S'il Vous Plait

**Required Disclaimer:** _If I could make money on this I would write better and more frequently but I can't so I don't. Blame Disney: Kim Possible is theirs—lock, stock, and barrel._

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**Chapter Twenty Four – Ron, **_**S'il Vous Plaît**_

The leather jacket didn't quite match the "old" Ron's image but the turned up collar covered the back of Jessica's head where her hair was gathered and tucked down inside of the back of her jersey. Sunglasses—also a non-Ron accessory—hid the fact that her eyes were blue and not brown. Otherwise, the blonde hair, the signature freckles, and the trademark red jersey over black pullover above brown cargo pants gave the impression that Ron Stoppable had, indeed, returned.

If you weren't standing too close.

"Slouch a little more," Liz coached. "And drop your shoulders."

"Y'know," Jessica breathed, looking at her reflection in the mirror, "I always thought I looked familiar but I could never place me. I mean, I kept comparing my reflection to other girls with blonde hair and freckles. I never thought of boys…or Ron."

"It is a bit uncanny," Liz agreed. "Having him around all the time—it was like he was invisible or something. But after he was gone…"

Jessica nodded. "It was like he left a bigger hole than anyone could imagine. It brought him into focus."

Liz nodded. "Well, now that he's on everyone's minds, Bonnie is trying to capitalize on her old Mad Dog connection to our famous mascot and running back. But all she has is her word against anyone else's. If the campus sees Ron Stoppable on my arm…"

"That totally blows Bonnie's credibility out of the water!" Jessica enjoined.

"Yes. And she can't exploit that poor boy when he's not around to defend his reputation."

"Yeah, but…" Jessica puzzled, "…aren't _you_ exploiting him instead?"

"We," Liz corrected. "And if _we_ don't exploit him then Bonnie will. And it's better for him…and us…if we do it instead of Bonnie."

"Yeah. I can see that. Except I'm doing half the work and my reputation isn't getting the boost here."

"What can I say?" The redheaded ex-cheerleader spread her hands. "I don't look like Ron—even in a wig—and I _am_ paying you fifty bucks."

"All right," Jessica conceded. "I'll walk with you and hold hands…even hug and duck into the bushes. But no kissing!"

"Good grief, J! We're in college, now. Girls are supposed to experiment when they're in college. It doesn't mean anything."

"That's what Crystal says all of the time. Too bad you didn't ask her to do this instead."

Liz ignored the illogic of that sitch. "Look, we can make it look like kissing at a distance without actually touching lips."

"Well…here's a breath mint, just in case. Now, where do we go, first?"

Liz pondered for a moment. "We'll need to snap some pics since most of the campus won't have a chance to see us together. Let's go over to Ron's house and use our phones to show his porch and front door behind us. Then we can head over to the walk outside the student center and the library, and finish up in the stadium bleachers before it gets too dark for anyone to see us.

**RSVP**

Dr. James Timothy Possible opened the front door to his house and stared at his wife and twin sons. "Are we going somewhere?" he asked, taking note of the fact that each had donned a light coat or jacket.

"_We_ are going over to the Stoppable's," his wife answered in a slightly distant tone of voice. "You're welcome to come along."

"Is something wrong?" he asked. And winced inwardly.

Of course there was something wrong.

Their daughter and the Stoppables' son had been missing for the better part of a year. His wife was increasingly distant and had sought comfort in the arms of others. But there was a disconnect in her voice, in her eyes, as if _he_ had done something wrong. And he had the good grace to feel a little ashamed as he realized that he had been guilty of putting a little distance between them, himself.

"Ron's!"

"Back!"

The disjointed answer supplied by each of their sons drew attention away from the unspoken awkwardness of the moment.

"He is? Does he know anything about our Kimmie-cub?" Mr. Dr. P. asked.

"I'll fill you in on the way," his wife answered a little less frostily. "We'll walk: it's not that far."

**RSVP**

"We can't stay here," Betty told the others as she wrestled their patient into an upright sitting position. "There's no telling how long our little bluff will be effective. I have agents on the way but Gemini's henchmen could decide to turn around and come back before they arrive.

"So we load him on the gurney and move him to another room?" Shego asked, pitching in to help.

Tara shook her head. "Dr. Possible said this is the only private room available. We can't move him to another room without him being recognized."

"Well, we can't stay here," Betty repeated. "If Sheldon could find him here, anyone can."

"Maybe we could walk him out," Vivian suggested. "You know, like _Weekend at Bernie's_?"

"We'll have to dress him, first," Tara observed.

"He has no clothes, "Vivian said. Just his hospital Johnnie right now."

"I'll go down the hall and see if I can find a spare set of scrubs," Tara volunteered.

"Can someone—oof, he's heavier than he looks—" Shego puffed, "—someone untie the ties in the back of this thing?"

"On it," Bonnie said, working to open the back of Ron's hospital gown. "What the hell!" she yelled a moment later.

"What is it?" Vivian asked.

"His—his back!"

"Oh, yes, I noticed that on the flight in," the blonde roboticist mused. "He's got all kinds of scarring. Burns, cuts, old wounds I couldn't even begin to guess at. And some not so old. I've known mixed martial artists with skin that's baby smooth compared to his."

Shego looked over Ron's shoulder. "Some of those look familiar."

Bonnie could barely tear her eyes away from the patchwork pattern that appeared to wrap around her former classmate's torso. "Familiar?"

"That's a plasma burn right there. I remember nailing him when he got between me and the princess."

Bonnie's eyes were wet. "Figures. I always said his clumsiness was going to get him killed someday."

"Clumsiness?" Shego glared at the brunette. "He dove ten feet off of a catwalk to block my shot. He wasn't being clumsy, he was playing human shield!"

"I—I always thought those missions were just a bunch of overblown, good deeds. I never thought that the freak-fighting was real!"

"See that? And those older ones, there? Three different lairs. All blown up. Stoppable would hit the Destruct button but he wouldn't always get clear in time. And watch who you're calling a freak!" Shego growled.

Vivian gasped. "He blew up three of your lairs?"

"Oh, Honey, he blew up more than a dozen over the years. He just didn't get clear of _three_ of them in time."

"I thought Kim did all the fighting and blowing up stuff," Tara said softly. She had returned with a couple of sets of surgical scrubs.

"So did we, at first," the former villainess said quietly. "But after I started reviewing the security tapes and analyzing where each plan had gone wrong, it became clear that _Kimmie_ was the distraction. She'd get them in and then keep me busy with some prolonged sparring sessions. But it was the buffoon—or the guy who acted like a buffoon—who was running around, distracting the henchmen, pretending to be all panic-y, and then sabotaging the weapons, the hovercraft, disrupting the plans, and pushing the self-destruct button, all the while convincing us that he was helpless and Kim was the real threat. Drakken still can't get out of the habit of calling Ron 'The Buffoon' even though he's deconstructed the security footage, himself."

"And all of this," Bonnie touched a tremulous hand to Ron's back, "is why Kim comes back from these missions unscathed. He protects her by taking the real hits…"

"Global Justice had them both come in for physicals after the Lowardian incident…" Betty began.

"Incident…" Vivian snorted softly.

"…needless to say, we have a medical work-up in Ron's dossier that suggests that he's a quick healer. Inhumanly quick. Some of his injuries suggest lengthy hospital stays yet we know he was back in class the very next day. Probably hurting like a son-of-a-bitch, moving slowly, and a bit out of it, to boot!"

Bonnie was shaking her head. "And all those times we thought he was just slacking…"

"We never suspected," Tara said sadly.

"He didn't want you to know," Shego scowled. "If he didn't want the princess to know, why would he tell you? Give the man the respect he deserves. He. Didn't. Want. You. To. Know. So stop beating yourselves up over the fact that he played you. He played…all of us…" She cleared her throat. "C'mon! Help me get this top on him!"

Tara considered both pairs of pants and, deciding on the more likely pair, began working the elasticized waistband over Ron's legs. As she reached his knees, the gown was removed and suddenly everything stopped.

Everyone stared.

"Oh!" Betty said.

"My!" Vivian breathed.

"Goodness!" Tara exclaimed.

Bonnie gaped. "Holy crap!"

"No wonder he was always falling over!" Shego mused. "He probably tripped over it. A lot."

"And it's not even awake right now," Betty wondered. "That would only make it—"

"Yes!" Shego interrupted.

Bonnie looked at Tara. "Do you think this is what he meant when he was always going on about giving the ladies 'a little Ronshine'?"

Tara didn't seem to hear the question. Her hand was poised in mid air, hovering just inches away from the anatomy in question. "Do you suppose we could…?"

"No!" the others shouted. And then looked around to see if they had attracted any outside attention.

They apparently had.

A smallish woman stood in the doorway. She wore a hoodie with the head covering pulled forward, casting much of her face in shadow. The upper half of her face was hidden by oversized sunglasses. Beneath them, her complexion seemed an unhealthy grayish blue and her mouth was open as they gaped at her and she gaped back.

"C'est magnifique!" she whispered in the suddenly silent hospital room.

Tara recovered first, yanking the scrubs pants up to Ron's hips and concealing the formidable distraction.

"Um," Vivian stammered, "this is not what it looks like…"

Shego released Ron into the arms of Bonnie and Betty and moved to stand between Ron and the intruder. Her right hand glowed dimly and dropped a few sputtering sequins of fire. She smiled her "let's dance" smile and said: "Hello, Sparky…"

**RSVP**

Fukushima shadowed the Possible family as they walked to the Stoppable home.

Although the parents were too distracted by their own concerns, the twins noticed that their mysterious stalker was moving along a parallel course, ghosting through neighbors' back yards, leaping fences, and even scaling trees to leap from the branches of one to the next. Sharing their observations via tweeb-speak, they alternated in taking furtive glances to track their tracker.

Meanwhile, unknown to the ninja and the Possibles, two other pairs of eyes were tracking the procession.

And following discretely behind…

**RSVP**

"I'm right outside, girl," Zita Flores told her phone. "The coast is clear."

The fire door at the back of the warehouse cracked open a bit, then swung a little wider with a muted screech.

"Gotta get that oiled," Monique muttered as she motioned to her friend to enter.

"Mo, this is crazy," the Hispanic girl told her friend as she followed her down a hallway by the light of a flashlight. "You know you're welcome to crash with me a little longer instead of playing homeless person in the dark!"

"I'm just keeping the outer lights off to keep from attracting attention," the black girl answered. I've got utilities up and running in my part of the building. I've got friends in high places." She added a silent "thank you" to Wade who had hooked her up without the city knowing there was a little extra juice and water running through the big, otherwise empty, building.

"Well, I don't mind sharing space even if it is a little cram—oh my goodness!"

The next door opened into a large room with lots of tables, a sewing machine, bolts of fabric, a cot, and some odd pieces of furniture. There was plenty of light and the room was warm in contrast to the cooling temperatures outside.

"Whoa, girl! Looks like you got it going on!"

Monique grinned. "It's not the Bilkmore but it's a couple of blocks from campus and I've got all the room in the world to lay out patterns, create assembly lines, and work on a bunch of different projects from all sides."

"What about a kitchen?" Zita asked.

"Mini-fridge, cooler, microwave, hot plate, coffeemaker, steam-iron," Monique answered, pointing out the various objects around the large room.

"Steam-iron?"

"Girl? Don't tell me you've never learned how to make grilled-cheese sandwiches with a steam-iron!"

The both laughed.

"You know," Zita said, taking another look around, "you should totally have a housewarming party!"

"You mean a _ware_house warming party?"

"Oh yah! It'd be great! You've got all this room—you wouldn't even have to let anybody into this area, there's so much space in the rest of the building!"

"As cool as that sounds," the fashionista reflected, "this is only a temporary arrangement. A few months to a year if I'm lucky. And I'm trying to keep a low profile, y'know? Even though I have permission to squat here until the building sells, I try to be discrete about my comings and goings. There's been that series of rapes and assaults around campus and I don't think it's a good idea for too many people to know there's a single woman, sleeping alone, in this big empty building."

Zita nodded. "Yah. I can see that." She dug in her purse. "That's why I don't go anywhere without my detective friend."

"Detective friend?"

The Hispanic girl held up a formidable looking taser. "Meet Sherlock _Ohms_!"

Monique laughed and produced a taser of her own. "Good 'eavens, Ohms! It is I, Dr. _Watts_-on!"

Both girls giggled.

"Seriously though," Zita continued as they both put away their stun guns, "we could still invite a few close friends and keep things discrete and low key."

"Like who? I've been so busy with work and relocating this semester, I haven't made many new friends and don't know any of them well enough to trust their discretion, You know how it is: invite one acquaintance and the next thing you know, three hundred people show up and there's an out-of-control kegger in your front yard."

Zita smiled. "How about getting some of the old gang back together? We've sort of scattered since graduation and it would be great to reconnect again."

"I hear that! Who should we tap?"

**RSVP**

"Let me get this straight," Shego snarled. "You not only know who sent the synthodrones that split up Kim sand Ron, but you also work for him?"

Electronique nodded. "Oui, I—"

"And you have the temerity to come here to consult with one of your victims?"

"I didn't do anyzing to heem! To zem! I—"

"You just work for the guy who did!" Shego roared.

Elle frowned. "Pot. Kettle. Black much?"

Now both of Shego's fists were clenched and the glow was growing brighter. "Did you just say—go ahead! Say it again! Say what you just said one more time so I can—"

Betty laid a hand on Shego's arm. "Hold on, Sheila. Let's hear her out." She turned to the aqua-hued woman who was starting to reek of ozone like a super-cell thunderstorm. "Who do you work for? What's his name and where can we find him?"

Elle shook her head. "Ze person you are looking for ees called 'Mastermind' and zat ees all I weel tell you."

"I thought you were here to switch sides," Shego taunted.

"I weel discuss zat matter weeth Ron Stoppable."

"As the head of Global Justice, I can negotiate terms with you. Work out a pardon, offer you protection…"

"Weeth all due respect, Director, I do not know you and I do not trust you. I weel negotiate weeth Monsieur Stoppable, I theenk."

"Not gonna happen, Sparky!"

"At least not now," Betty interjected. "As you can see, Mr. Stoppable is unconscious at the moment…"

"But ze meld! I heard him! I felt him!"

Shego's eyes went wide. "It was you?"

"Oui."

"Yeah. _We._ All of us together. Thanks. But you're still not leaving here without giving up your boss!"

"Weell you not take my gesture az an act of good faith? I came 'ere at no small risk to myzelf to warn you! 'E 'as sent me to check ze patient records. 'E knows zat Monsieur Stoppable is injured and ees returning to ze States. Mastermind believes that 'e is coming here and will suspect ze truth if I do not return immediately. I can buy you a little more time but you must not stay 'ere! It ees not safe!"

"Maybe so, Sister, but for all I know you may be trying to flush us out into the open and into some trap," Shego fumed.

"I swear! But you will do az you must. Just az I must do as I must!"

"Are you sure that you won't let me offer you Global Justice's terms and protection at this time?" Betty asked once more.

"Non. I will treat with only one person: Ron Stoppable, _s'il vous plaît_."*

**RSVP**

Names were bandied about and the guest list swelled to ten people. But as the list grew, both of them became less excited and more reflective, finally lapsing into silence.

"It's them, isn't it?" Monique said softly after a lengthy silence. "We're connected to most of these people through our friendships with Kim and Ron…"

"What happened, Mo? Where did they go? Why haven't they come back?"

Monique shook her head slowly. "I don't know, Z. I hear rumors...but…all I know is that—wherever they went—they went separately. And…" She shook her head again.

"What? What is it?"

Wade had been pretty close-mouthed about what he knew but Monique was unrelenting. Over the months she had put together a pretty depressing idea of what might have gone down before her two best friends had fallen off the face of the earth.

"Zita…we think…that Rufus is…dead. Murdered the day baby boy left town."

"Madre de Dios!" Zita was on her feet. "Do you know who did it?"

Monique shook her head again not meeting her friend's eyes. She was only half-lying anyway.

"Well, whoever did it might as well have killed him, too. It would probably have been kinder." She sat back down, her eyes wet.

"Did you know," Monique asked after another lengthy silence, "that you were the first girl that Ron ever asked out? At least the first who said: 'Yes'."

Zita's head came up, surprise widening her glistening dark eyes. "I—I knew that he wasn't—well—smooth. I figured he hadn't played the field that much but I never knew that I was his first."

"Now, girlfriend, when I say 'first' and you say 'first,' are we talking about the same thing?"

"What? Oh! No! No. He was always the perfect gentleman. Probably one of the reasons we split up. I've always kind of had a thing for the bad boys. Guess that's why Felix and I didn't last, either." She laughed mirthlessly. "Guess the joke's on me. Turn's out that Ronnie is the baddest badass bad boy on the whole freaking planet!"

"Maybe," Monique agreed, "but he's also one of the sweetest, most vulnerable guys in the whole world, as well. He's the whole package, Z."

"Don't I know it…now." Zita's head was in her hands. "I blew it. His first… Big deal: what I wouldn't give to be…his _last_."

"First. Last. At least you had something for awhile. I was always the friend of the friend."

Zita looked up at the black girl. "You were interested? Why didn't you—?"

"I was Kim's best friend! Even before they got together senior year, she was protective and possessive and I watched her sabotage his opportunities time and time again. I'd swear it was largely unconscious on her part but that didn't mean she wasn't the ultimate definition of the anti-wingman! That girl can't stand to play second fiddle to no one! Ask Bonnie—"

"Yah. Bonnie and Kim are two of a kind. Tweedledee and Tweedledum."

"I never looked at it that way. You might be right…only Kim's got the better disposition."

"Which actually makes her more formidable."

"Yeah…yeah…I can see that. If he'd been hanging with Bon Bon, I would've put the moves on him just out of principle. Instead, I kept waiting to see if Kim would either wake up to what was right in front of her…or stick with one of her hotties long enough for Ron to be considered fair game."

"Well, if I could date him, then why couldn't you?"

"Timing is everything, I guess. He showed an interest in you. I never got that vibe from him. Maybe because I was Kim's BF…"

"Boyfriend?"

"_Best_ friend! Or maybe because of what he was and—" she gestured at herself, "—what I am."

"Oh, Chica! He's down with the brown, trust me! And I know he respects you. It's not just in his words; it's in his voice, his face… It has nothing to do with him being white and you being black."

"What? No! I meant him being Jewish and me being Pentecostal!"

"Really? You don…"

Monique smiled in the awkward silence that followed. "What, Z? Don't seem the type? It's the 'rents, really. I'm still making up my mind. But still 'washed in the blood,' if you know what I mean."

Zita shrugged. "Sorry. The Jewish stuff never really occurred to me. And I'm like Catholic, y'know. Besides, the Possibles are what? Episcopalian or something like that? Most folk assumed that it was gonna be all K-ron someday so the religious thing didn't seem all that important. You've seen Ron order the whole menu in Bueno Nacho. That's about as far away from keeping kosher as you can get without attending a shellfish and pork barbeque!"

"Good to know," Monique said with a quirky little smile. "'Cause if that boy ever returns, I'm going to hand him a brand new menu and tell him to order whatever he wants!"

"Girl! You've seen the way he eats when he's hungry?"

"Oh yeah! For some kinds of eating, messy and enthusiastic beats prim and proper, hands down!"

"_Monique!_ I can't believe—you need to take a step back, Chica! The more I think about it—if he _was_ to come back, now, I think you would want to take things slow. Wait a little while and see what kind of signals you're getting before you make your feelings known. Playing hard to get will probably work better than throwing yourself at him like some sort of slut!"

Monique frowned. "Do you really think so? I've been feeling like I was too timid be—_oh!_ You! _Bitch!_"

"_Puta!"_

Both were smiling.

_And yet…_

* * *

**ABOUT THE CHAPTER TITLE: ****_* And with Electronique's final words, we have the meaning of the title: RSVP._**

_**Adapted from French etiquette by English society since the late 18th Century, the initials RSVP had stood for the French phrase "répondez s'il vous plaît," meaning "Please respond or reply." **_

"_**S'il vous plaît," itself is a French phrase that can either mean "please" or "if you please."**_

_**So the title of the overall story, "RSVP," is taken from Electronique's request: "Ron Stoppable, s'il vous plaît." Which, you could argue, should translate to "RSSVP" but that wouldn't work as well so just shorten it to "Ron, s'il vous plait."**_

_**Especially since Elle is not the only lady trying to make "reservations" in the story.**_

* * *

**Authors/Notes: **

_**A footnote to the big reveal in Chapter 23 that Mastermind is a "she" and not a "he": I was very careful in the 22 chapters leading up to that scene to be totally genderless in the narrative references to Mastermind. The only times that our masked villain was described as a "he" or "him" was by his minions or prisoners who did not know Mastermind's identity and were simply assuming the masculine gender in dealing with "him". I wasn't easy keeping the omniscient narrator's voice gender-neutral in regard to Mastermind but it was important to play fair with my readers before the first big reveal…**_

**_And once again, I'll raise the issue of what constitutes a "ship." Yes, several parties have expressed interest in a certain party—which seems to be a one-way street, so far. Ron and Shego have had their flirty moments but I'd hardly define it as an actual "ship." _**

_**Yet, anyways. **_

_**In fact, the only real ship to have taken place by my definition—so far—is Ron/Yori. **_

_**So, harem? By my "shipping" standards, not really there…**_

_**Yet. **_

_**But the tale is still young.**_

_**And, I'm sorry, but I really haven't tweaked you all nearly enough, yet...**_

* * *

**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 24**

_Firestorm Rising 6/25/11 . chapter 24_

Another amazing chapter. I've been reading this story for awhile and I have to say that you have truly created something magnificent. I can't wait for the next chapter.

**_Thank you! R~13_**

* * *

_CajunBear73 6/25/11 . chapter 24_

Dangling threads are ya? Playing 'keep-away' and still teasing with possibilities... mmmhmm, mmmhm...

Speaking of dangling, interesting 'dangling of participles' with Ron and the ladies in his room... And now a crack in the wall of silence surrounding the whole attack on Kim and Ron has appeared. Hope Ron can come around to meet with Elle and work something out before too much has slipped away.

So the ladies and their plans to squire Ron are really taking on a new development. Man that can't go well.

_**Probably not the Hugh Heffner fantasy that a number are hoping for.**_

But back at Ron, it now comes out just what he was to Team Possible, to so many in the unveiling of the legacy on his back. Bonnie's grief and shame seemed to encompass more than herself there.

And Fukushima's shadowing seems to have drawn the notice of more than the Tweebs, huh? Wonder who they work for.

_**Answers (some anyway) are right around the corner.**_

Wonder if the subterfuge at the Possible's will come to light in the following chapters too.

_**That may take a little longer...**_

But, sigh, still holding out for what you may deny us K/R fans...

CB73

**_Man, you Kim/Ron shippers are really hard core! But do you outnumber the RonGo and the Harem posses? R~13 _**

* * *

_Sentinel103 6/25/11 . chapter 24_

I know that I haven't reviewed this much...not really into harems you know, I already voted so don't need to stuff the balot box here. Now the one thing about the show that I always enjoyed was the anti-bigotry. E.g Kim's best friend/girlfriend (Monique), her best friend/boyfriend (Ron)...Not surprising Zita is Catholic, but Moni Penticostal...OK takes a while to get my mind around that considering the fashon diva's personality. And the Possible's Espiscopal? Since I am one I can say I really don't see them that way. Anglican is like Catholic light. The next thing you know you'll have Wade as a 'Witness' which I could see if I drank enough. Don't think so? Remember the old saying where you find four Episcopalains you find a fifth.

Now you have also taken Kim out of the box and trashed her a little in my opinion by her best friend/girlfrind...I would have thought there would have been a little more loyalty here...but I suppose not.

so Mastermind's hench girl is free lancing? And Sheldon is in the mix...

ST-103

**_Trashed her? Dunno: I've seem to remember Monique busting her chops a little on more than one occasion. And Monique and Ron have connected in a couple of areas that put Kim a little on the outside. Since Kim has a history of being a little fickle and disregarding Ron on multiple occasions, I'm not sure Monique can be faulted for assuming that Kim's moved on and Ron is free game. Still, if Kim were to return and help sort this whole misunderstanding out..._**

**_And as for Episcopalian…Zita doesn't know, she's just guessing. Monique, like a lot of young people, is considering her own approach to faith and whether she'll commit to her parents' religion. And you know the old saying: Jews don't recognize Jesus as The Messiah, Protestants don't recognize the Pope as the head of the Christian church, and Baptists don't recognize each other in the liquor store. Lol! R~13_**

* * *

_Pavelius 6/25/11 . chapter 24_

hmm... so the Cheerleaders (at least 2 of them) are playing with a Ron-disguise... i think this is going to backfire hard with this many people out there who want a piece of him in a good and a bad way)...

_**Backfire? Oh yes...**_

I really hope, that you won't smash the marriage of the Possible parents... i really liked them as a couple in the show...

_**A lot of things may end up smashed before we're done...but who and what is left standing by the time this juggernaut is over may surprise a lot of my readers. Maybe even me...**_

Fukushima looks even more like the prey then like the predator... lets see who the others are...

_**I have to take The Fifth on this particular plot point...for now.**_

Monique joins the mayhem too? ... It is getting quite crowded... i hope Ron is up for some heat after he wakes up..

_**Let's just hope his pants stay up this time.**_

And no... i still don't have any clue who Mastermind is... i could only guess wildly ...

Keep it up

Pavel

**_Please don't guess wildly! You have an uncanny accuracy rate that unnerves me and makes me wear tin-foil over my head as I type my chapters! As for the Possibles? Rough road ahead—rough road for a lot of people! But we will see who eventually comes out of this alive and happy. And I may just surprise you, yet (in a happy way, I hope. Just not right away). R~13_**

* * *

_Aldo Montoya 6/25/11 . chapter 24_

What a fic! This thing has alot of up and down, that makes it a great read for me. Can't wait to read more soon. As for a pairing for Ron, flip a coin between Anne and Betty, and it landed on Anne. Would be for a great read with that pairing me thinks.

**_Ahhh, poor Anne! It's been a difficult year for her…and it's about to get a lot crazier! (Irony alert!) R~13_**

* * *

_Some Dude 8/26/13 . chapter 24 _

So that's what RSVP stands for? Huh, would of never guessed...

**_Well, at least there will be no more mysteries in the story, now. (hee hee!) R~13_**

* * *

_SlayerX86__chapter 24 . 4/16/14_

Hmm ... A question please . Is this supposed to be Ron - Centric ? Why do I ask?  
Because 24 chapters in there is barely 4 or 5 chapters with Ron's POV .

_**Well, I can promise you that Ron will be conscious shortly—and that, while he won't dominate every single chapter of the eighteen more chapters to come in Part I—he will be at the center of most of the action to come. Plus the nearly 50 to come in Part II! The short passages where Ron isn't front stage and center are but minor time-outs in the grander scheme of the RSVP Saga…**_

It is getting a bit tedious to hear how awesome Ron is and how all the girls missed out on getting the perfect boyfriend for the 10th time .

_**Well, I've got to give each their due. Part of the Kim Possible Series canon was how much Ron was dismissed as a froob and a loser, despite his involvement in fighting super villains with Kim. Given his final accomplishment in single-handedly ending the Lowardian invasion—in such a spectacular fashion, I might add—it would be silly (especially post high school) to assume that his stock hadn't significantly risen among the fairer sex. And his former female acquaintances would have to feel a little sheepish (if not downright humiliated) over the way they had treated him before. Kind of like the way guys feel at their high school reunions when they realize that the chubby nerd girl they picked on in homeroom is now a Sports Illustrated swimsuit covermodel with a big bank account. **_

_**It would be understandably tiresome if the same two or three girls were moaning over and over and over again but, for the most part, we're peeking into the heads and eavesdropping on the conversations of a number of different girls as the story rolls along so it's not unusual for a little toe-shuffling and introspection on the part of each one that was pretty much front and center for the humiliation all of those years. **_

_**Especially Bonnie. Oh yes, Bon Bon is a very special case…and a couple of **_**mea culpas**_** are not going to serve for the girl who did more than the rest combined to taunt, insult, and try to humiliate the guy who really has had the last laugh (even if he's not laughing so much at the moment).**_

All these minor characters getting so much screen time but the main character is unconscious for idk how many chapters .

_**Well, again, the length of unconsciousness is fairly short in comparison to the length of the whole story by the time it is done. And having other characters talk about him when he's "not there" is the very definition of "Ron-centricness." But having Ron front and center in every chapter? That would seem "tedious" to me…**_

I dont know whether I should continue to read or not . The pace felt just way too slow . Plus no Rufus .

_**I hope you will continue to read, I think it will get better in regard to some of your concerns. The pace is slow, however: you'll get no argument there. It's a big story with practically all of the characters from all four seasons of the original show so it won't be over soon. This may not be your thing and I know I'm not going to please everybody... **_

_**...but you never know about Rufus… R~13**_

* * *

_Ken106348 chapter 24 . 7/12/14 _

A good chapter I just wish they were a little longer. How meany chapters are in this first saga?

_**42. Even more in Part II. Part III? Unknown. There's still time to bail... R~13**_

* * *

_PyroNaga chapter 24 . 7/17/14_

"...Than that of the nameless girl in blue..." "WHO?" "...Precisely"  
It would seem that this isn't the first time Rufus tinkered with his memory... but nah... it can't be... there would too many complications in the way... Karen couldn't possibly have childhood history with Ron. I'm just being paranoid. unless if you... *notices your evil grin* ... oh no, i hope i haven't planted any ideas in your mind. just forget i said anything.

_**Yes, you should be careful: other readers have given me delightfully evil plot bunnies (not that I'm not evil enough on my own)! But nothing mystical here: the "nameless girl in blue" was in about every episode of Kim Possible for a few fleeting seconds in the background. I'm surprised if anyone remembers her 5 minutes after the show was over.**_

Wait a sec, you mean Ron is the main character of the story, *a chorus of facepalms could plays inside my mind* huh, i haven't seen heads or tails of the guy since forever ago.

_**Oh, he's around...in spirit if not actually taking part in the conversation. And he'll be up and at 'em before you know it.**_

I wish you'd stop connecting his manliness to his er, 'hardware' and attracting every single female being in the universe to him. I'm honestly surprised the B-bots haven't made a move on them yet. XD Your lucky I'm not a feminist.

_**The oblique references to Ron's "manhood" is more of a tongue-in-cheek tribute to a number of other stories on this website that introduced the idea that Ron is endowed beyond normal expectations. Just having a little fun here and only Betty, Shego, Vivian, Bonnie, and Tara-oh yeah, and Electronique-are privy to this particular anatomical issue. I don't think that the subject "comes up" again in the many chapters to come...**_

_**As for the B-bots? Give them time... ;-)**_

I think CB said something about Elle hopping the fence and telling Ron of the mastermind's identity. Which had my 'PN senses' tingling. I think the latter part will lead to her doom as she leaves us with her last good deed. That's what happens in the movies anyway. *Looks at you funny* i still haven't cracked your nut, Rippy.

_**Ah, Elle: I cannot divulge her particular fate, yet. But you will see the repurcussions for this particular act kick in soon...**_

I hope for Ron's sake that this 'ship' doesn't have a Jacuzzi cause a lot of these ladies seem to love it. lastly, i think you already have this ship planned out. A lot of tease along the way but only the one of YOUR choosing gets their ropes cut off. ;)

Viva Riplakish

_**Thanks, PN! And, yes: I did have this particular "ship" planned out from the beginning...though I must confess that reader response and pressure have thrown a few course corrections into the story and has had me reconsidering a couple of the relationships. And I now live in fear of what most of the reviewers will do to me if I don't turn this into a "harem" story! LOL R~13**_


	25. The Walk to Samarra

**Required Disclaimer:** _RSVP is a work of Fanfiction and, as such, should be construed to be, in no way, associated with the true adventures of Kim Possible or imply any form of ownership, personal rights, or recompensed product on the part of the creator of this non-canonical work. KP ain't mine, no way, no how._

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**Chapter Twenty Five – The Walk to Samarra**

Señor Senior Senior stepped out of his private helicopter and gazed upon the home he had not seen for the past week.

The "Victorious Villainy" Conference he had attended had been interesting but not that informative. He had learned more about lair enhancement and outlaw protocols in just five minutes with Ronald Stoppable than he had from the fourteen guest speakers and the five mini-workshops he had just spent a criminally exorbitant fee for.

If only he could have persuaded his son to attend. Junior wasn't particularly self-motivated and the peer input might have proved inspirational.

And then again, maybe not, he decided as he walked to the edge of the helipad and looked down.

Señor Senior Junior was laying out by the pool in his abbreviated Speedo with two new guests. A brunette was slathering lotion on his bronzed back while a blonde was mixing drinks at the cabana wet bar. Both women appeared to be in their early twenties and wore silver and gold lamé bikinis respectively.

_Ahhh,_ the distinguished gentleman thought, as he descended the steps toward the patio, _if I were only forty years younger!_

_And, of course, in addition to the issues of age, there was the problem of his cancer and the chemo…_

"Father!" Junior jumped up and hurried to meet his sire, practically bouncing with excitement. "Come and see what I have done!"

"So," the old billionaire arched an eyebrow, "you've been busy while I was gone?"

"Oh, yes!" Junior practically squealed. "You will be so proud! I have schemed to commit a double act of villainy!"

"Really?" The old man grinned. "You must tell me all about it!"

"Well," his son said, lowering his voice and taking him aside, "I was thinking about many things! About how I miss my Bon Bon. And how this Mastermind has offered a reward for the whereabouts of the Kim Possible and her partner." He smiled happily.

"Yes? And?"

"Well, don't you see? I suddenly realized that there was a connection!"

The old man stared at the hulking man-child with a sense of growing and all-too-familiar disappointment. "But of course. Miss Rockwaller and Miss Possible were cheerleaders together in high school."

"Oh. That. Yes, I suppose that is true." He shrugged his ridiculously massive shoulders. "But I was remembering that when my Bon Bon came to me, she was with the Kim Possible's sidekick. And, when she left me, I know it had to be for some other man!"

Señor Senior Senior stared at him for a long moment. "And you are thinking that she went back to Ronald Stoppable?'

Junior nodded. "Most certainly! And, even if she didn't, she has—how you say—the history with him."

"And so you think she knows where he might be?"

"That or she could find him if she needed him."

"And your plan is to kidnap her and make her tell us? You know I do not approve of torture. It is so déclassé."

"No, Father. She would not like it if I kidnapped her. She said I was always too clingy when we were together so kidnapping her would be a very bad idea since I want us to get back together."

"Um. All right? So. What is your nefarious plan?"

"I have kidnapped her sisters! That one is Connie and the other one is Lonnie. We will hold them for the ransom and then she will get her friend to come help rescue them!"

"I see…and then what?"

"We will collect the reward from the Mastermind person, get the ransom for the two sisters, and my little Bon Bon will be so grateful that she will fall into my muscular arms and we will be together again!"

"Hmmmm. An interesting arrangement…it has a certain synchronicity…except for a couple of loose ends," the old man mused. "If Miss Rockwaller discovers that it is you who have kidnapped her sisters and then make her family pay the ransom, how is it that you think she will be grateful? To you, that is?"

"Well…she…doesn't like her sisters…?"

"So why would she want to rescue them or pay the ransom? And if either member of Team Possible appears, how do we keep them from stopping us and sending us back to prison? Again?"

"I—er—um—am still working on that part of the plan…"

**RSVP**

Jack Hench placed two helmets on the table and stepped back. "There," he said. "It wasn't easy. The one helmet that was still intact had a design flaw that was the reason for discontinuing the product and the other had to be reassembled from two partially destroyed units and some spare parts back at the factory."

Mastermind floated closer on his (or her) cyber throne. "Excellent, Mr. Hench," the electronically altered voice boomed. "How much?"

"Well, as I've said," these two last Attitudinators were not easy to come by and there were additional costs in abduct—er—_hiring_—the mad scientists necessary for the redesign and reconstruction processes—"

"How much?" Mastermind interrupted.

"A cool million—"

"What?"

"—each."

"Outrageous! This is a blatant attempt to—"

"What?" Hench inquired mildly. "Hold you up? Rob you? Demand criminally exorbitant amounts of money? My goodness, in my line of work, it pays to be thought of as a "bad" man. Almost a requirement if _Henchco_ is to have a reputation for knowing and properly servicing its clientele. So, go ahead: suggest that I'm a bad man in whatever language you like." He smiled. "Just don't accuse me of being a hypocrite."

Mastermind fumed a little and then tried again. "The items I ordered from you are necessary for the completion of my plan to neutralize Kim Possible and her sidekick forever!"

Hench frowned. "I thought you had accomplished that already."

"No. I split them up and drove both of them out of the hero business and into hiding. But the sidekick is back to doing good deeds and if he's back in action can that red-haired bitch be far behind!"

Hench stroked his chin. "Hmmm. If what you say is true, then this changes things!"

"Indeed it does! So I hope you'll adjust your price accordingly."

"Of course. Of course, I will." He patted the nearest helmet on its top between the two, protruding extractor tubes. "_Two_ million each."

_"What!"_

"Henchco sales have dropped since Team Possible disappeared. Many of my customers seem to think they don't need Henchco technology now that the world is a safer place _for_ crime. Believe it or not, it's actually better for my business if those two troublesome teens return. So, what'll it be? The pair for four million? I'll throw in a half-dozen black market Moodulator knock-off chips for free."

Mastermind grimaced under her mask. If she had been able to unlock the cybernetic codes for the other features built into the Renton boy's chair, she would have happily strangled Jack Hench with the grappling arms.

"I can give you a two million right now and get the balance for you next month," she seethed, turning up the bass on her voice filter to sound more domineering.

"Great. I'll just leave this one here and deliver the other next month when you've got the cash in hand. Oh and here's one of the Moodulator clones. I'll bring the others with me when I deliver the other helmet."

The comm unit chimed.

"I'm sorry but I have to take this. Mr. Perkins will cut you a check on your way out."

Hench picked up the second Attitudinator. "Of course. I'll take it by my bank on my way back to my office. I trust there won't be any difficulties if I cash it right away—"

"Of course not!"

"—because all Henchco products have a built-in, remote, self-destruct circuit in the event of—well, let's just say one of my mottos is 'Trust but Verify'."

Mastermind was too angry to manage a comeback. She was silent until Hench exited her inner sanctum and then keyed the comm screen.

"Well, it's aboot time!" Duff Killigan whispered as his bearded face filled the screen.

"What is it, Killigan?"

"Didja no read me messages?"

"Which ones?"

"Ach! The ones I been sending these past two hours!"

"I've been a little busy. What is so important that you had to break radio silence?"

"Weel, the Stoppable Family has returned hoom…"

"The parents and the adopted child, right? No sign of Ron Stoppable?"

"Well, aye, but—"

"Fukushima's people are assigned to the families. They have their orders and you have yours. You are to remain out of sight until either Kim Possible or Ron Stoppable return home. Only then are you authorized to act. Do you have what you need?"

"Och, aye."

"Will it be sufficient?"

"Doon ye worry. My new formula is ten times as powerful more powerful than the ones I was using joost a year agoo."

"Very good. Was there anything else?"

"I was joost callin' to inform ye that the Possibles are walking over to the Stoppable hoose, an' the ninjas air a following them."

Mastermind frowned behind her mask. That was odd. Fukushima had his orders to split his forces so that each house was under observation at all times. Breaking cover to follow family members away from the house was contrary to her orders. She knew that she would have trouble with that arrogant Asian: he didn't like taking orders and thought that he was smarter than everyone else. And he had an unhealthy fixation with the boy. She would have to replace him sooner than she anticipated. But the arrangements would take a few days and in the meantime…

"Killigan, I am expanding the parameters of your mission and granting you greater autonomy. If you have a shot, then take it."

"Weel, that might pose a wee problem. Those bawbag and bampot ninjies are as like to be in me way when I line oop me shot."

"Take it anyway," Mastermind ordered. "If they're in the way it's because they disobeyed my orders. It's on their heads."

"Aye, then. Oot? Wha's this? Gotta go!"

The screen went dark.

**RSVP**

Fukushima took a chance and dashed across the street just twenty yards behind the Possibles as they approached the Stoppable residence. As he disappeared around the corner of a neighboring house he thought he might have been noticed by one of the twin boys but they continued on down the sidewalk, apparently lost in their own thoughts.

Running across the back yards, leaping fences and staying low to the ground and under the windows, Fukushima entered the Stoppable's back yard where he was joined by two of the ninjas from his second team.

"I'm going in," he told them. "Do not allow anyone to leave through the back door. The others will guard the front. As soon as the doorbell rings, I will enter through the back window while the occupants' attention is drawn to the front entryway. Once they have given me the information I seek, I will dispatch them in such a way that the gaijin will have no choice but to come out of hiding!"

Moments later the distant sound of the doorbell reached their ears. The others helped the rogue ninja ease the window up and he slipped into the house.

**RSVP**

As the Possibles turned to walk up the Stoppable driveway, the twins gave each other a series of looks that constituted a silent language for them.

"Mom, Dad…" Jim said.

"We just remembered…" Tim added.

"We left something…"

"In Ron's tree house…"

"We'll be right in…"

"In just a moment…"

Both were prepared to argue their case if necessary but their parents were too distracted by their own thoughts to question the logic of Tweeb tree house business when Ron had been absent for the better part of a year.

"Don't be long," their father said absently as he rang the doorbell.

"We…"

"…won't!

They promised as they headed around the side of the house and toward the back yard.

They were wrong about how long they would be gone.

_They never would set foot in the Stoppable house again._

**RSVP**

Duff Killigan nursed a flask of whiskey as he sat on the bluff that ran behind the southern row of houses on VanDamm Street. His vantage point gave him the perfect position to watch the comings and goings around both the Stoppable and Possible properties. More importantly, it also afforded him a pretty good view of the ninja teams that were hidden down below and across the street from both houses.

It was tiresome work—as well as boring to boot! Two twilight scopes with focused motion detectors were trained on the houses in question so he could crawl into his sleeping bag and grab a little shuteye from time to time. But he couldn't leave until the job was done.

The incredible amount of money that Mastermind was going to pay him was certainly a great motivator. But it was the video that the masked super villain had shown him that sealed the deal. Video of Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable conspiring to murder him—even if they managed to take him into custody! It was so out of character for the two teens he had faced off with in the past, he might have thought them to be two entirely different people who just happened to look like Kim and Ron.

But there they were on the video recording. Followed by the image of his beloved ancestral castle being blown up by the two gloating teens! He never would have believed it if he hadn't seen and heard them caught on the surveillance tape that Mastermind's agents had retrieved.

He certainly never considered the possibility that they could be look-alike synthodrones…

So this took the game to a whole new level as far as the dim-witted Scotsman was concerned: they would kill _him_ unless he killed them, first. The money that Mastermind was offering would help him rebuild…but money was useless if you couldn't live to spend it!

So he had endured days—weeks, now—camped out on the bluff, in all kinds of weather, waiting for the return of these teenage assassins. It was all well and good that Mastermind had given him permission, in advance, to take the shot. Because he was going to take it—with or without permission.

The masked villain was brilliant at putting together a series of schemes that had sent Team Possible to ground and opened up lucrative ventures for half the criminals in the western hemisphere. But he felt no personal loyalty to someone who hid their identity and ordered him around like some boot-licking minion. He would continue to play along until he got what he wanted and then he would be on his way and making his own destiny.

And if Mastermind had any objections, well. He had a whole bagful of exploding golf balls and he would play through the floating madman's lair like it was a miniature golf course!

The weary Scotsman tilted his head and the flask back to get the last remaining drops and accidentally splashed himself in the eye.

He dropped the flask with a muttered curse, trying to wipe at his burning, stinging eye. As he rolled around, trying to suppress the urge to scream a litany of oaths and pejoratives, his good eye caught sight of something that sent chills down his spine.

Ron Stoppable was walking down the street toward his house with Kim Possible on his arm!

**RSVP**

Ensconced in their second-story, corner bedroom with front and side windows as well as an array of security cameras, motion detectors, and remote-contol "eyes-in-the-skies," the genius Possible twins were a near match for a bored and disorganized band of ninjas.

Techless and on foot, they were easy pickings for Fukushima's sentries in the Stoppable's back yard.

A series of pressure points and nerve clusters were struck before the boys were even aware that they had company…

**RSVP**

"Justine," the abbess grasped the young initiate's hands in greeting. "Have you given any further thought to our conversations about your purpose here?"

"I have Reverend Mother. I know you're worried that I just want to run away from the world. But I'm just so restless, here. I want to be out in the world, doing something. Scrubbing floors and tending the gardens has taught me patience. I think. But I want to do more. Isn't there something that I can do to be more…"

"More…?" the abbess queried.

"…helpful?" Sister Justine finished with less certainty.

"So, you _don't_ feel that scrubbing floors and washing dishes and making beds and tending garden is…helpful?" the old woman asked sternly.

"I…that is…what I meant…"

The abbess smiled. "It's all right, Justine. I've invited you here because Father Hennessy has come to discuss opening a new mission in Lowerton and the possibility of joining the resources of the monastery with the abbey. He didn't want to approach the bishop with a proposal until he had discussed his ideas with me. That's why I've asked you here."

"Oh, Reverend Mother…are you asking me to sit in on your meeting?"

The old woman chuckled. "No, Justine. Father Hennessy brought a young man along with him, a postulant from the monastery. Like you, he is in the process of considering a life of service and Father is giving him a perspective on the many places and ways we can be called to serve. I'd like you to give him a tour of the grounds while I meet with Father Hennessy."

She spoke as they passed through the outer office and into the reception area.

A silver-haired man in a black suit with a clerical collar stood as the women entered. A young man in a brown robe stood a little less slowly as he practically gaped at his opposite number in the postulant department.

"J-josh Mankey?" Sister Justine stammered.

"_Holy_—cow!" Brother Josh exclaimed. "Kim Possible!"

**RSVP**

"Do we kill them now or wait for Fukushima to return?" the one ninja asked, his foot pressed to the throat of Jim Possible now lying on the ground behind the Stoppable house.

"We wait for our leader to return unless they start to make a sound," answered the other, his foot on the throat of Tim Possible. "If either one opens his mouth, then we cut their throats immediately!"

Two drawn katana blades tapped the twins' chins to underscore their point.

If the Tweebs thought the situation couldn't get any more surreal than it was now, they were wrong.

A disembodied head suddenly appeared out of thin air.

Two already nervous ninjas stumbled backward.

As soon as they were a couple of feet away from the Possible brothers, taser darts struck their chests and they both hit the ground in twitching, jerking puddles of black-clad unconsciousness.

The Tweebs stared at the vaguely familiar blonde head that floated a few feet above the ground. Suddenly the emptiness beneath the long, thin face parted and they could see a blue dress with a white collar. Arms became visible, holstering a pair of stun guns in the belt about her waist. Justine Flanner opened her virtual refracting stealth cloak a little wider and gestured to the boys to join her.

"Come with me if you want to live!"

**RSVP**

Across town a young man began to toss and turn in suddenly sweat-drenched sheets.

"…no…" he murmured fitfully, "no…no…no…no…"

"What's wrong?" Bonnie asked. "Is he having a nightmare?"

"I don't like this," Shego muttered under her breath.

Tara held on to a thrashing wrist for dear life as she checked his pulse against her watch. "Over a hundred-twenty BPM!" she announced.

"…Hana! Look out! Oh…Mommy, _nooooo…!_"

Ron Stoppable screamed and sat bolt upright. His face haggard and gray, his eyes wide and almost starting from their sockets, he gazed at some seemingly distant horror while his hands and arms began to flail as if to disperse a nightmare that was just in front of him.

And then he began to _keen_ like a wounded animal…

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**ABOUT THE TITLE: ****"The Walk to Samarra," is a paraphrase based on the old fable, "The Appointment in Samarra."** **Here's the tale as retold by W. Somerset Maugham in 1933: The Speaker is Death...**

**_There was a merchant in Bagdad who sent his servant to market to buy provisions and in a little while the servant came back, white and trembling, and said, Master, just now when I was in the marketplace I was jostled by a woman in the crowd and when I turned I saw it was Death that jostled me. She looked at me and made a threatening gesture, now, lend me your horse, and I will ride away from this city and avoid my fate. I will go to Samarra and there Death will not find me. The merchant lent him his horse, and the servant mounted it, and he dug his spurs in its flanks and as fast as the horse could gallop he went. Then the merchant went down to the marketplace and he saw me standing in the crowd and he came to me and said, Why did you make a threatening gesture to my servant when you saw him this morning? That was not a threatening gesture, I said, it was only a start of surprise. I was astonished to see him in Bagdad, for I had an appointment with him tonight in Samarra. _**

_**The title of this fable has come to represent the inevitability of fate, that one's death or doom may not be avoided but that we all have our appointments in Samarra.**_

**Authors/Notes****_: A big smackdown awaits in the next chapter. And I predict that you're not going to be happy at the end of it…_**

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**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 25**

_CajunBear73 6/30/11 . chapter 25_

Some plans are coming together and some of them may just level the entire block.

So Justine is in the house and Sister Justine is moving closer to home...

Wonder if Duff and his misguided plans cause him more grief than he intended and Fukushima a whole new appreciation for Mortal Kombat Golf...

CB73

**_Foreshadowing, CB? Or just…FORE! R~13_**

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_TheRedKommie 6/30/11 . chapter 25_

I have been holding off on reviewing for a few reasons. I wanted to see where you were going with this, and second... I'm a Kim/Ron guy. I just couldn't get behind this at first. Still having issues with it. You can tell where I stand on the pool, though if it would be for not, then rongo, and if not that, then the harem.

Anyways, I do like some of your ideas, and I was pretty much convinced that sister justice was Kim. Happy to know I wad right. I'll keep reading, to see where u take this, but... I'll hold my thoughts on most of it after I see where u go in the next couple of chapters.

**_Sorry, RK: if you know where this is going in the next couple of chapters, you're psychic to the Nth degree—you and Pavelius (grin)! R~13_**

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_Burner 7/12/11 . chapter 25_

XD good fic my vote in the pairing is Ron/Joss hurray for the token loli.

Also common man/girl? speed up wake up Ron and get with the plot

**_Joss? I think dating her would be illegal in Colorado (not to mention most of the other 49 states…) R~13_**

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_Sentinel103 2/18/12 . chapter 25_

Well it looked (well still does you know) like bad things are gonna start happening.

_**Well, it's about time is all I can say!**_

As I thought Justine Flanner is not SISTER Justine who is a novice nun at the moment. Still having trouble getting my mind around that. Also her old flame Josh...or is he referred to as brother Josh since the brown robe?

_**Or Brother Monk—I mean Brother Mankey.**_

And what appears to be Kim and Ron walking up to the Stoppable house (and that is going to ignite this). Lemme see the dress wearing fleabag is half blind and decides to take the shot. Flanner reappears and grabs the tweebs for her own evil purposes.

Jack Hench trusts this Mastermind ding dong as much as he now trusts Drakken...you know...ah never mind. Its PM time again.

Larry (Sentinel 103)

**_Aw, come on, Lar: it hasn't even begun to get complicated, yet. And it IS going to get complicated! R~13_**

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_Some Dude 8/26/13 . chapter 25 _

Okay... what the hell was up with this chapter!

**_All will be made clear(er) in the next chapter... R~13_**


	26. Ground Zero - Take One

**Author's/Notes****_: _**

**_I'd like to think there's been a payoff for the readers who stayed on board past the first chapter of this story._**

_**I'm sure a number of people sampling Chapter 1 of RSVP held their noses and dropped out, thinking that I was breaking faith with the characters of Kim and Ron as established in the series. For those who gritted their teeth and decided to hang on a little longer, they were (I assume) relieved to learn that the awfulness that transpired between Kim and Ron was actually two separate attacks by synthodrones attempting to destroy their bonds of love and trust. **_

_**Plot-wise, I've come to discover that a number of stories in here have gone the route of splitting up Kim and Ron—some permanently and others temporarily. But even in the Kim/Ron tales where they do reconcile, the split is usually because Kim is (1) heartless, (2) shallow, (3) controlling, (4) insensitive, etc., etc., etc… **_

_**While Kim's Type-A personality opens the door for some of those stories to grab the ball and run long and hard with it, I like to think that Kim comes off a lot better in RSVP (so far) because the Kim Possible who broke Ron's heart in Chapter 1 was never the real Kim, herself. And, so far, it's been all about Ron. Remember, Kim's heart was shattered, too. Otherwise, the girl who could do anything wouldn't have withdrawn from the world in such a way for so long.**_

_**Anyway, my point is…not everything has been what it seems. Kim and Ron weren't always Kim and Ron in Chapter 1. Agent Will Du wasn't really Will Du when he checked into that hotel and contacted Mastermind. Sister Justine…well, you get the picture. And while the story's structure seems a set-up for a classic harem story, I still maintain that Ron has only "hooked up" with Yori, so far. And, no, I do not base the definition of a "ship" as to being about whether or not there's sex involved. Yes, there's been a bit of "right back atcha" flirtatiousness in the Rongo flavor, but no real shippiness by my lights, yet. Of course, I can't say there's not going to be any either, or I might as well stop telling the story and just print out the plot outline. **_

_**No fun in that.**_

_**But back to my original point: I'd like to think there was a payoff for the readers who stayed on board past the first chapter. Those who jumped ship did so in the belief that the story was going/had gone somewhere they wouldn't/didn't like. And maybe that's true—but I like to believe that they might have felt differently if they had stuck it out a little longer.**_

_**Why am I beating this dead horse? Because a bunch of you may be about to throw your hands up and join the First Chapter exodus. **_

_**That's your right. No one can write to please everyone and I'm sure this story may displease some who stick with it to the bitter (or not so bitter) end. But I ask you, before you head to the emergency fire exits: if I have managed to surprise you and keep you guessing on more than a couple of occasions—is it conceivable that I might do it a few more times before the fat lady sings? I understand that Chapter 26 may be a deal-breaker for some of you. But Chapter 1 would have been a deal breaker for me.**_

_**Unless I kept reading… **_

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**Required Disclaimer:** _Now would Disney do what I'm about to do? That's how you can tell that I have no official or authorized involvement with the KP franchise. No money, favors, or assassination fees have been collected in the production of this piece of fan faction._

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**Chapter Twenty Six – Ground Zero – Take 1**

The convent gardens were quiet and unattended at this hour of the day. The young couple strolling amongst the emerging greenery was granted some momentary privacy for their unexpected reunion. The young woman wore a white and black head scarf that all but hid her flame-colored hair. The young man's head was uncovered, his short brown hair showing no evidence of their once frosted tips.

"So…" Kim Possible said to her former high school crush, "…Josh Mankey…monk."

"So…" Josh Monk—er—Mankey countered, "…Kim Possible…nun."

"Oh…uh…no. Not…really."

He smiled. "That's a relief."

Kim, who had avoided any direct eye contact since they had entered the garden area, stopped and turned toward him. "It is?" Her eyes narrowed in anticipation of his answer.

"Well, I thought you had to be Catholic to be a nun. I mean, I know you're supposed to be the girl who can do anything but aren't you Episcopalian?"

"What? No."

"Lutheran?'

"_No._"

"Christian Scientist?"

"Josh!"

The handsome young man smiled again and placed a finger to his lips. "I think it's better if we keep out voices down and you address me as _Brother_ Josh, Sister—uh—Justine."

**RSVP**

"There's a car in the driveway!"

Liz tightened her grip on Jessica's arm. The blonde kept looking for an excuse to back out and she wasn't about to give up so easily.

"Get your cell phone out and be ready to take a couple of pictures," she told the faux Ron Stoppable. "I'll do the same. If we're quick and quiet, we'll be done and gone before anyone would notice."

"I don't like it."

"Jeez, Jessie—you don't just _look_ like the old Ron Stoppable, you _whine_ like him, too!"

"Oh, I am _so_ breaking up with you tomorrow, '_Kim'!_"

**RSVP**

"…and I was still thinking about my options when you showed up and blew my cover," the redhead finished as they sat on a stone bench by a dry fountain.

"Kimberly," Brother Josh said, reaching over and taking her hands in his, "I think your cover was blown the moment you showed up on their doorstep. You were kinda famous before the Lowardians came and since then…" He shrugged. "Like you, I'm examining my options. I want to study for the priesthood but I have no money or prospects for the immediate future. Father Hennessy made arrangements for me to do a sort of internship at the monastery to see if I wanted to try for a special scholarship program in the fall. But I'm nothing special. When Father asked if I would like to come along on this visit, I wondered why he would ask me when so many of the other brethren would be the more logical choice. I'm pretty sure now that it was a set-up. I'm guessing you got stuck in your process and the Abbess wanted to give you a little push." He grinned. "Ironic, huh? The guy who almost made you disappear that time back in high school being used to try to make you reappear."

**RSVP**

Meryl Stoppable came back down the stairs, carrying a fretful toddler.

"I don't know what's wrong," she told the others. "She must have had a nightmare. She's always such a happy baby…though she _has_ missed her big brother this past year."

"Well then," Dr. Anne Possible said from the sofa, "I think I have some good news for you…"

**RSVP**

Kim squeezed her friend's hand. "So, are you in hiding, too? I know that even back when he was sane, Ron had issues with you. I can't imagine what it must be like for you, now!"

Josh Mankey's eyes widened. "Um…what are you talking about?"

**RSVP**

Fukushima drew his katana from its wooden scabbard with the softest of whispers. The muted voices from the front of the house were starting to gain clarity as he silently worked his way down the hallway from the master bedroom.

_There!_ Someone was saying something about the boy! What—?

"Do you mind if I use your rest room?" a woman asked.

**RSVP**

"Sorry, Kim, but I really don't know what you're talking about. Ron's never come back to Middleton. He disappeared the same night that you did. No one knows what happened to him—though there were news reports from Japan last week that he stopped a nuclear plant from melting down after that big quake. Are you sure your folks weren't having you on?"

"Th—they wouldn't joke about something like that!" Her eyes were haunted and she began to tremble.

Brother Mankey leaned toward her. "And you're sure that it was really your 'rents who wrote those letters? That it really was their handwriting?"

"Of course—well—they were…typed, actually. Printed out. From one of their computers."

"So…no _actual _handwriting?

Kim Possible, the girl who could do anything—including be duped twice by an unseen puppet-master—began to tremble again. The words that eventually passed her lips were not on the approved list of Vatican II.

**RSVP**

Duff Killigan fumbled in his golf bag for a trio of his new Mark VIII DFX Golf Balls. He had placed six tees—three for the Possible house, three for the Stoppable home—last week after painstaking measurements and triple-checking his sight lines. Blinking furiously, he tried to unblur his vision long enough to place the three balls on their tiny launching pads.

Without warning, the redheaded cheerleader and her blonde sidekick had just appeared out of nowhere.

He couldn't take the chance that they might disappear just as quickly.

**RSVP**

"How could I have been so _stupid?_" Kim cried.

"Well, if I understand properly," Josh answered, patting her hands, "you were traumatized at the thought that the sweetest, nicest, best friend that you had trusted all of your life—had threatened your family and tried to rape you."

"But—but—that's just it! I should have _never_ believed he could have done those things! It _should_ have been obvious that it couldn't have been Ron! Especially after what happened with Erik—I should have considered something so _obvious_—" She burst into tears.

"Hey, hey, Kim…like I said, you were traumatized. No one could be expected to think rationally under those circumstances. Graduation, the Lowardian Invasion, discovering your boyfriend has supernatural powers and abilities, losing your home—it's a lot to absorb in a short time. You were off balance; hel—heck, we _all_ were. Then, _this_ comes at you. Like I said: traumatized. No one can be expected to think rationally under those circumstances."

"Especially not egotistical, driven, Type-A, know-it-alls who think they're smarter than they really are," she said bitterly, staring down at her feet through a blur of tears.

**RSVP**

Dr. Anne Possible excused herself and stepped around the corner of the Stoppable living room to enter the hallway leading to the bathroom. As she moved, she had to execute a little do-si-do with Gene Stoppable as he stood and simultaneously moved toward the front door.

"I think someone's on the front porch," she heard him say as she moved into the shadowy corridor.

**RSVP**

"I've had plenty of time to think," Kim continued, castigating herself. "I've spent nine months in the perfect environment for thinking. Why didn't I see it until now?"

"You mean, why didn't you see it until you had a conversation with someone who has another perspective on what happened?" Josh asked. "Come on, Kim. You've been so busy being Sister Justine that you only isolated yourself further. I didn't have to spell it out for you. You figured it out pretty quick once you stopped being someone you're not and went back to being who you are. I'm sure the nuns here are a great bunch of gals but how can they help Sister Justine when it's Kim Possible who needs to talk to someone _she_ knows?"

"I—I guess if I'd gone back home—or stuck around just another day—I would've figured it out right away. What a waste…"

Josh smiled and shook his head. "Maybe not. Maybe you just needed some time off. Saving the world every week can wear a person down pretty fast, I imagine. Maybe you needed a vacation. Maybe this was 'a step back' that you needed to take before going forward, again. Maybe this period of retreat will give you a fresh perspective on going forward now."

**RSVP**

Two doors opened simultaneously.

Gene Stoppable opened the front door of his home and gaped at the sight of his son and Kim Possible standing on his front porch, facing away from the house.

Anne Possible stepped into the Stoppable bathroom and flipped on the light switch.

_No_, Gene thought, _not Kim Possible_. Their faces, though turned toward the street and the cell phone cameras they held in their outstretched hands, were angled sufficiently for him to view the pair in one-quarter profile. The redhead was that other cheerleader on the former Mad Dogs cheer squad. And Ron was—different. "Get in here, you two!" he ordered, making them jump like illicit lovers caught red-handed.

Anne turned to close the bathroom door and saw a shadow move behind the opaque shower curtain. A loud _shushing_ sound erupted as a long, silvery blade burst through the plastic material, stabbing into the brain surgeon's blouse.

Hana suddenly cried out and began to wail.

**RSVP**

"When did you become so wise?" Kim asked her former high school crush.

Josh shrugged. "Don't know that I'm particularly wise. Just have a little more perspective from spending these past few months in a monastery. Which is why I think that a little retreat from the world can be a good thing." He stood. "But why I also know that it's important to not cut your ties to the people who know you well enough to help you with a little perspective from time to time."

Kim stood and hugged him. "I guess I'd better go talk to the Abbess about freeing up a bed for a more worthy postulant."

"I can't imagine someone more worthy, Kim. Just someone more suited to leaving the world behind…" He linked his arm in hers and, together, they began to walk back toward the main building.

**RSVP**

Between the noisy entrance of the two unexpected guests, the banging of the front door, and the wailing of Hana Stoppable, no one caught the sounds down the hall of shower curtains being slashed apart or the impact of a body thumping against the corridor wall across from the bathroom door.

Anne Possible felt along the slashed fabric of her shirt and hissed as her hand came away wet with blood. The blade had barely touched her side where her waist curved in, between her bottom rib and the upper slope of her hip. A few inches lower and it would have stabbed her in the pelvic region instead of just scoring a burning line across the curve of her skin. She rolled away as the black clad assassin exited the tub and came at her through the door.

Instead of rolling away toward the front room, her movement carried her toward the back of the house and the master bedroom. She opened her mouth to cry out a warning but the ninja was already upon her, bringing the katana up and slashing back down in a killing blow aimed at the center of her face.

**RSVP**

Duff Killigan finally blinked the last of the distracting whiskey from his eyes and snatched up his binoculars.

Team Possible had entered the Stoppable home just moments before but, already, there was a disturbance at the back of the property and he caught the briefest glimpse of some kind of cloaked movement.

He was out of time.

Mastermind had told him to make the call.

He dropped the binoculars and hefted his club.

"Fore," he whispered.

And launched the first ball.

**RSVP**

Dr. Anne Possible's hands were fast, strong, and sure. Neurosurgeons do not perform seventeen hour operations on mere dexterity, alone. There was strength in her slender fingers and speed as well.

Fukushima was treated to a practical demonstration as her hands clapped together, trapping his blade between her palms and stopping its descent just inches from her forehead.

Rather than pit her strength against his, however, she allowed the kinetic force of his swing to carry her downward and, thrusting her feet forward, she half slid/half swung between his legs. She finally released the blade at the nadir of its arc, punching upward with both fists as the tip of the katana struck the wooden floor behind her head.

The blow wasn't perfect. It merely threw the ninja off balance as he tried to recover his blade and the position that had suddenly reversed on him. As she scrambled to her hands and knees, he pulled the blade from the floorboards and spun about, kicking the bedroom door shut before she could escape.

Anne threw herself across the bed, blessing the slick surface of the comforter that enabled her to reach the far side before her assailant could touch her. She staggered erect knowing that the king-sized bed would only buy her a few seconds of safety. She grabbed the bedside lamp and swung it at the nearest window. The pane shattered, half emptying the frame but lining the opening with several sets of glassy fangs and dozens of jagged teeth.

Fukushima's hand dipped into a fold in his belt and produced a pair of throwing stars. Anne turned just in time to see twin flashes of silver as he flicked the razor sharp weapons at her head. Still clutching the lamp with one hand, she threw up the other and jerked her head to the side.

One six-sided blade kissed her cheek as it went spinning past. The other buried itself in her palm as she blocked the killing trajectory just inches from her face.

She dropped the lamp and grasped the wrist of her injured hand, trying to resist the overwhelming urge to pull the ninja-weapon out of her flesh.

Fukushima, exploiting her pain and distraction, leapt across the bed with his katana held sideways before him.

Releasing her wrist, she grabbed the ninja's sword hand with her good hand. Fukushima, however, pressed the advantage of his superior height, weight, and strength to press her back against the side of the broken window. He raised his chin as he glared down at her. "Just die already!" he hissed.

"You first," Anne answered. And whipped her injured hand across his throat.

The steel edge of the shuriken that stuck out from her bloody palm, opened the ninja's neck to the trachea and both carotid arteries. The last thing he saw was a reflection in the broken shards of glass still bordering the bedroom window. It looked like there were shadows behind him.

Shadows that were growing darker, as if they were becoming real…

And then all was darkness.

**RSVP**

Killigan's club was striking the second ball even as the sound of broken glass announced the arrival of the first through the second story window.

As he lined up his shot for the third, the second arrived, punching through the living room window.

And the first detonated.

The first explosion literally tore the roof off of the house.

**RSVP**

Anne started to ease around the bed and the dead assassin as the house shuddered, knocking her off balance. She did not see the shadows that Fukushima had gazed upon with his dying breath. But then, she was not yet dead and a little distracted.

Moments later, as the bedroom door exploded inward and a tongue of flame blew out the rest of the windows, the shadows were gone and so was Kim's mother.

* * *

**ABOUT THE TITLE: ****From Wikipedia: The term ground zero describes the point on the Earth's surface closest to a detonation. In the case of an explosion above the ground, ground zero refers to the point on the ground directly below the detonation. The term has often been associated with nuclear explosions and other large bombs, but is also used in relation to earthquakes, epidemics and other disasters to mark the point of the most severe damage or destruction. The term is often re-used for disasters that have a geographic or conceptual epicenter.**

_**Used in the title of this chapter, Ground Zero not only refers the Stoppable house as the epicenter of the explosion from Killigan's deadly attack, but to the emotional devastation that will be visited upon the survivors. The other part of the title suggests that we will eventually be treated to more than one version or viewpoint of this catastrophe…**_

* * *

_**A/N 2: **_

_**Poor Josh. In most Fan Fictions he's either gay (not that there's anything wrong with that!) or evil! I tried to find a third path for him here. (Of course, given what's come before, it's not entirely unthinkable that he won't turn out to be gay AND evil before I'm done…**_

* * *

**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 26**

_EnterpriseCV-6 7/10/11 . chapter 26_

this is all I have to say about Anne !

I really can't wait for Kim and Ron to hear about this because I have a feeling they will Start AND end WW3 (world War 3) because trust me if that EVER happened to me, my friends, and family well let's just say YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW ;)

**_World War III may be coming but, like any other great war there will be a series of skirmishes and small battles, first. Trust me: we're still in the first quarter of a game that may go into sudden death overtime. R~13_**

* * *

_Pavelius 7/11/11 . chapter 26_

Quite the intense chapter here.. first the insight into Kim's confusion and than the blowup at home...

I am wildly guessing and saying, that the shadows in the bedroom was Justin Flanner who rescued Anne Possible (at least i hope so.. dont want her to be dead)..

Lets see how the rest of the families and the 2 cheerleaders make it out of the rubble...

Keep it up

Pavel

**_Hmmm, regarding your guess about Justine Flanner saving Anne…yes and no. Justine doesn't save her. But she does have something to do with the shadows! And you probably won't know what that means for some time to come… R~13_**

* * *

_readerjunkie 7/11/11 . chapter 26_

Oohhh...now that's a cliffhanger ,can't wait to see what happens next.

**_Me neither! ;-) R~13_**

* * *

_Sentinel103 7/11/11 . chapter 26_

Personally I think that you just love to torture Kim and Ron Rip. So Anne's hurt, you have a couple of fakes out on the lawn. Killigan is drunk and going to murder. The light goes on in Kim's head thanks to Josh.

Well thing HAD to get moving in the positive direction at some point.

**_Oh my gosh! You're right! I didn't realize! I DO love to torture Ron and Kim! Igor, bring me the…_****COMFY CUSHIONS!****_ (Nobody expects The Spanish Inquisition!). And I'M not the one calling a chapter filled with murder and mayhem movement "in the positive direction". LOL! R~13_**

* * *

_CajunBear73 7/11/11 . chapter 26_

You play with so many and so much.

Things are coming together and coming apart.

Kim's been given a chance to gain a new perspective on what drove her here. Hope she gets the chance to return and get on the ground with this war going on at home.

And the mystery just continues, one body at a time.

**_Bodies? (Looks around) Where? R~13_**

* * *

_Feudor 7/11/11 . chapter 26_

Very interesting chapter, full of cliffhangers. What has happened to the tweebs, Mrs Dr P, and the rest of the Stoppable/Possibles?

More, please!

_**Okay, then!**_

On another matter - I'm not sure that you can draw the conclusion that people read chapter 1 and then decide they do not like it.

Due to the way FanFiction-dot-net works, if you follow a story and look in at it every time there's a new chapter, you automatically hit chapter one. Then you can "jump" to the latest chapter.

If everyone reads like this, then chapter one should have as many times more hits that there are chapters!

Now, some of course start reading when there's already a few chapters published, and go from chapter one to the latest in one go. Then, the first chapter will not have more hits than the others.

The truth probably lies somewhere in between. But with 26 chapters up so far, you should really expect chapter one to be massively over-represented without any readers dropping out!

**_Wow, thanks for explaining the big numbers disparity between readerships for Chapters One & Two. I was totally convinced that people arrived for the first chapter and then ran off, screaming into the night, never to return-in increasing and repeated "droves." So much a FanFiction virgin! R~13_**

* * *

_Some Dude 8/26/13 . chapter 26_

Hoe- Lee- Crap! This story is starting to scare me a little...

**_Good. Just remember: I'm a dick. But also, you can't trust me to be a total dick... R~13_**

* * *

_loganhunter2 chapter 26 . 1/11/14_

Ron go shipper here but damn man Ron was in a coma for like 6 chapters and wakes to this ...attack on titan , kicking a cat I need something close to a little lighthearted but wow you're good , I'm actually re watching the series to find out who is master mind

_**Well, it won't be all angst and death…but it's a little hard to see that right now. As for Mastermind? He—er—she won't be that obvious even if you do watch every single episode. I just hope my choice for the "Warm Up Villain" makes sense when you find out who she is. R~13 (And yes, I said "warm up" villain. Just wait til the real threat shows up at the end of Part I...)**_

* * *

_**Guest chapter 26 . 7/13/14**_

This was a good chapter I can see everything starting to come together. Ken106348 is my handle can't log in on my phone

_**Coming together only to be blown apart! R~13**_


	27. Ashes to Ashes

**Required Disclaimer:** _If you've read this far and still have any idea that I have any rights—monetary, creative, or otherwise—to anything related to Kim Possible or Disney, then you haven't been paying any attention. I have nothing. I claim nothing. I know nothing. NotHING! Gut morning, Herr Commandant! (That goes for _Hogan's Heroes_, as well.)_

* * *

**Chapter Twenty Seven – Ashes to Ashes**

Dr. Elizabeth Director had seen more than her share of action as a field agent. And she had more actual combat experience than the politically appointed heads of the NSA, CIA, and FBI combined. She had been wounded twice and endured enemy torture that had cost her the use of her right eye.

And she had held dying comrades in her arms more times than she cared to remember. Some had wept as their pain grew and their life ebbed.

And, near the end, had cried out for their mothers.

For that handful, she had dutifully kissed their blind and uncomprehending faces and told them that "she" was there and that everything was going to be all right. And then she softly murmured and eased their passage into the Great Unknown with the promises that she would stay with them and be there when they woke up again.

On her worst nights, they haunted her dreams and even her eye patch would grow damp with the return of her tears.

But nothing had chilled her like Ron Stoppable's _waking_ cry for his mother.

Or the desperate sounds of grief that were torn from his throat as he fought his way back to consciousness.

_This_ was different.

This wasn't a dying man regressing to his childhood and longing for the comfort of his mother's arms. _This_ sounded like a man desperate to save his family, who already knew that he was going to be too late.

_But he was going to damn well try, anyway._

Ron Stoppable leapt off the gurney and took two steps toward the door. And then his legs collapsed—weakened from the days he had spent in a comatose state.

As she moved to help him back up she barely avoided being struck by a flying stick. The object smacked into Ron's outstretched hand and, for a moment, it looked to Betty's sleep-starved eyes like a slightly curved sword in a scabbard. She blinked a few times and saw that she was mistaken: Ron was using a walking cane to leverage himself back up onto his knees. She started to step forward again and stopped as the kneeling man began to glow.

Blue light filled the room and grew brighter until it achieved a blinding intensity. Betty turned away and saw that the others behind her had done the same.

As soon as actinic flare died away she turned back toward Ron but he was gone.

He couldn't have gone far, she thought, hurrying out into the hallway.

_But he had._

**RSVP**

There was no stamp, no postmark on the outside of the envelope. And, of course, no return address.

Dr. Drakken laid it aside once again and took up the single, folded sheet of vellum that had been tucked inside.

**Dear Drew**, the printed text began…

Either the person addressing him was rude or ignorant of his proper title…or someone who felt that they could assume an easy familiarity with him. The formerly-mad-but-now-just-miffed scientist continued rereading the mysterious note.

**Today is the first day of the rest of your life! New opportunities await you! The dreams that you may have abandoned can be dreamt again!**

_This has got to be some sort of come-on for some kind of self-help or motivational seminar, _Drakken thought.

**The obstacles to your success are disappearing and soon there will be nothing standing between you and your full, unrealized potential!**

**Carpe diem, Doctor Drakken! You were born and destined for greatness!**

That was it.

No signature.

No "fill out the entry form and enclose a check for…"

The blue villain turned GJ resource sniffed. It was odd and very rah-rah…

But what did it mean?

And who had sent it to him?

He turned the page over and stared at the blank side.

And then turned it over again and began to reread it for the fifth time.

**RSVP**

Running down to the elevators, Betty punched the "Down" buttons on all four elevators. Shego was right behind her. Together they studied the floor indicators above each set of doors: none of the readouts suggested movement from their floor to the ground.

"The stairs!" Shego exclaimed as she whirled and had to hesitate as Bonnie and Tara passed them by. She took a step to follow and was nearly bowled over by three blurs. Dr. Porter was running down the hall in pursuit but her heels were slowing her considerably. With three hops and a double curse, she pulled them off and flung them aside. She was able to run much faster in bare feet but still was a distant last in the queue that pounded and leapt down the stairway to the hospital's main floor.

The bemused expressions on the faces of the staff and visitors in the hospital lobby suggested that Ron had already passed this way.

The parking lot was another story.

W.W.E.E. had landed its troops via two hover pods. One was now leaking smoke and various fluids and looking like someone had taken a heavy particle beam cutter to it. The other was soaring off in the direction of the Stoppable home. In-between were a couple dozen W.W.E.E. agents—some in immediate need of medical attention and all seemed overly anxious to surrender all over again.

Dr. Director whipped out her personal communicator and called Global Justice. "Where's my extraction team?" she demanded of the first voice that answered.

"Five minutes out, Ma'am."

"I want them diverted immediately. Send them to…" she placed a hand over the receiver. "Tara, what's the address for…"

But Tara King was off and running toward the ambulance bays.

Dede stepped forward and rattled off the Stoppable address from her internal database.

Betty repeated the address to the agent on duty and asked: "Who am I speaking with?"

"Agent 73, Ma'am."

"Well, 73, I'm invoking new mission protocols. Activate _Operation Cajun Bear_. Repeat: _Operation Cajun Bear_. I want all members of the Stoppable family in protective custody ASAP! And as soon as that is accomplished, round up the Possible family, as well. Try not to frighten them. Tell them they'll be briefed as soon as I get there." A trio of blurs whooshed past her. "Oh and send a couple of cabs out to the hos—" She blinked as an ambulance tore past, siren wailing, with Tara standing on the flat rear bumper and clutching the outside pull-up railing fireman-style. Bonnie's sports car was giving chase with Dr. Porter in the passenger seat. Betty glanced at Shego who was scowling and clenching her fists in impotent frustration, and cleared her throat. "_One_. Send _one _cab out to the hospital. Tell them there's a hundred dollar tip if they're here in five minutes!"

**RSVP**

"My child, it simply doesn't matter _who_ you were before you came to us," the Abbess said, responding to "Sister Justine's" heartfelt apology and confession. "All who come here are seeking a new life and we do not condemn them for the lives they are trying to leave behind…

"Though, in your case, I believe that you came to us out of a need for sanctuary and respite from the many demands that the world has placed on you. It was our privilege to give Kim Possible a much needed rest. And we would have done it even if you hadn't saved our orphanage in Chile last year.

"Oh, that. It was no big. My partner has this knack for communicating with animals. Especially jungle…" She hesitated as the memories of Ron's deft negotiations unleashed conflicting emotions and unresolved feelings from last year's assault.

The older woman's kindly smile faded as well. "I wish that you would stay longer, to give us an opportunity to talk about what really happened to drive you here. And how those…issues…might be addressed and resolved in a healthy manner. I fear that your healing has only truly begun now and you will need time to properly work through your feelings—both the false and the true." She was frowning now. "But your desire to return home comes at a momentous time," she continued, taking the young woman by the hand and leading her into her office.

"The Bishop called just ten minutes ago," she continued, opening a pair of cabinet doors to reveal a television set. "I've sent Sister Constance to gather your belongings and Father Hennessy will drive you in his car when you are ready." The Abbess picked up the remote and turned on the news.

The picture was familiar. It was a suburban neighborhood and the houses looked both familiar and out of place.

Perhaps the wrongness of the scene was to be found in the smoking crater that had replaced one of the homes on what should have been a quiet neighborhood street.

The fire department added to the chaos—hoses everywhere, bright red trucks blocking the street. A couple of ambulances. A W.W.E.E. hoverpod…

Kim's eyes narrowed. Gemini was back? What dastardly scheme was he pursuing now?

A familiar looking police officer was talking to a reporter. And who was that? Bonnie? Rockwaller? Why was she crying? Was that her house that had been destroyed?

The cop put his sunglasses back on and Kim suddenly realized that it was Officer Hobble.

The audio kicked in and he was saying: "We have two survivors and a body.

"According to one of the survivors there were five other people in the house at the time of the explosion. They are, as of yet, unaccounted for."

"I've spoken to the fire chief," the reporter interjected. "He says that, between the three known explosives and the subsequent rupturing of the gas main, any bodies have been reduced to unrecognizable ashes. That no identification—or even a body count—is likely possible. Any chance that anyone else made it out in time?"

Hobble shook his head. "Unlikely. The first explosion brought half the neighborhood out into the street and the rest to their windows. If anyone else got out, they would have been seen. Given what we know, it is unthinkable that three of the principles would have left the scene if they had managed to get out."

"What about the survivors, sir?"

"We have an adult female in her forties who was forcibly ejected from the house by the second explosion. She has numerous injuries, many consistent with the act of being blown through a shattered window. We have a second, adult, Asian male, deceased. Possibly dead before being thrown through another window by the second or third explosion. And a two-year-old Asian girl."

"And what are the extent of her injuries?" the reporter asked.

Hobble glanced over his shoulder and the camera tracked the gesture, focusing beyond him at an unexpected tableau.

Ron Stoppable was seated on a portable gurney as Tara King and another paramedic cut away the scorched legs of his hospital pants. His adopted sister Hana was in his lap, fiercely clinging to her big brother and he was fiercely clinging back.

"As far as we can ascertain," Hobble was saying, "the little girl—uh—seems to have no injuries."

"And how do you explain that?"

Hobble shook his head. "I don't know. I—just know that I'm glad." He smiled. It turned into a fierce display of teeth. "And that's good enough for me—for the moment!" He turned and walked toward a woman in a Global Justice uniform.

"Sources have identified the adult female survivor as Dr. Anne Possible," the reporter said, now over B-roll of a familiar-looking redhead being loaded into an ambulance. "Noted Colorado neurosurgeon, wife of rocket scientist Dr. James T. Possible and mother of teen hero, Kim Possible, now internationally lauded as one of the Fearless Four and instrumental in stopping the Lowardian Invasion just this last year. At this moment we have no information regarding the whereabouts or fates of Miss Possible or her twin brothers, James and Timothy." The camera swung over to focus on the smoking pit across the street. "Perhaps their ashes are intermingled with those of their father and the owners of the house, Gene and Meryl Stoppable."

The Abbess clicked off the television. "There is no point in indulging in useless speculation," she said. "You need to go to your mother. And your friend. If there is anything you need—"

Kim wiped at the tears that were streaming down her face. "Thank you, Reverend Mother. I don't want to indulge in useless speculation, either."

_But if I find out that someone is responsible…_she thought fiercely,_ I might need any and all absolution that I can get before I'm done with them!_

**RSVP**

As the firefighters rolled up their hoses and stowed their gear, Shego stood and walked through the wet, clumping ashes that had been Ron Stoppable's childhood home.

_A life erased_, she thought as she looked about her. Walls, ceilings, rooms—gone. Evaporated like so much smoke. Furniture, drapes, rugs—erased as if the terrain of his home had never existed.

And the bodies…

Bad enough that Ron had lost his parents—as well as most of the Possibles who had been even more of a surrogate family to him than his own flesh and blood. But there weren't even any bodies left to bury, to say a proper goodbye to.

She shook her head. This wasn't just bad. It was _monstrous!_

As she had told that Load kid, most of the villains that she knew weren't murderers. While it was possible for some of their encounters and subsequent battles to turn fatal, they rarely did and it was understood that—for crime fighter and criminal alike—they were engaged in hazardous behavior.

_But friends and family were off-limits. _

_It was like a code._

_It was understood._

Like all of those times that Drakken's crazy mother had turned up in the middle of one of his schemes: The Princess could have made his life a lot more difficult by telling her that her son was a criminal mastermind instead of a radio psychologist.

But Ron and even Kim had played along, unwilling to bring emotional pain to a mentally unstable old lady.

They didn't really have to—even by the standards of The Code, itself. Ratting you out to family—while painful in its own way—didn't compare to physically harming civilians.

_Whoever did this_, she thought as she shuffled through the grey sludge that was essentially a mass grave, _has taken things to a whole different level. This is beyond the pale. We're entering unknown territory, here,_ she brooded.

_First the Synthodrone attack that basically destroys a life long friendship._

_The murder—yes, _murder_—of Ron's beloved pet._

_The death of his wife and unborn daughter in Japan._

_And now this._

_Any one of these cruelties might undo the strongest individual. _

_Together? _

Her first impulse was to rush back to the hospital, sit by his bedside, and hold his hand.

But it was more important to remain out in the field and look for clues. Whoever or whatever this malign force was, she had a feeling that it was not done. And she had to find it and stop it so that it could never hurt her Ron again!

_Wait! What?_

_Her Ron?_

She shook her head. She was a good guy, now. It was her job to protect other good guys.

That's all.

Nothing more.

Still, she'd rather be back at the hospital, holding his hand…

**RSVP**

Dr. Renton blinked as the smoke from the soldering pen wafted up and into her eyes.

Mastermind had brought her some impressive components to work with—but the spare parts and tools that she was expected to work with were another matter entirely. Even if she were back in the Middleton Space Center's robotics lab, this assignment would be next to impossible. Creating a life-life robot was still beyond the limitations of known technology.

And trying to pass one off as a copy of a real human being that people actually knew—well—she was just stalling for time until she could figure out what to do next.

In the meantime, maybe she could slip a little something into the circuitry that would provide a little surprise down the line…

**RSVP**

Anne Possible fought her way back to consciousness and cracked open her eyelids.

The blinds on her hospital room windows were closed but the red-orange wash of light seeping through the cracks told her that it was night and the sodium lamps were on out in the parking areas.

The lights were off in her room, save for the feeble glow from the monitors and sensor panels she was hooked up to.

A quick, internal catalog of her various aches, pains, and patches of numbness told her that she had numerous stitches but no apparent fractures or deeper surgeries. She was sure, however, that she must look like the Bride of Frankenstein.

Of greater concern to her, however, was the pulsating ache and peripheral insensateness of her left hand. Both of her hands were important when it came to the delicate microsurgeries that her discipline required. Even if her scalpel hand was unimpaired, she was pretty sure that the assassin's throwing star had pretty much ended her career as a neurosurgeon.

A small thread of self pity began to insinuate its way into her hazy thoughts.

And then she was ashamed.

Her husband. The Stoppables. And, unless she misunderstood the business about the two new visitors at the front door while she was down the hallway, her sons Jim and Tim. They were all dead now, vaporized in the explosions and fiery crematorium that had once been a quiet home.

She was the "lucky" one.

She choked back a sob and then wept softly. Not for her poor self but for those she loved, lost so senselessly.

And for Kim.

And for Ron…

"Dr. Possible?" The voice was hauntingly familiar…and yet, so different.

She blinked to clear her eyes and then tried to raise a hand to wipe away the tears. Her arms remained leaden and unresponsive.

"Here, let me…" he said. A tissue dabbed at her eyes and across her cheeks.

It took her eyes a bit longer to adapt to dim illumination. At first he was just a silhouette: a man in a wheelchair. A shadow limned in a halo of light from doorway behind him. Gradually his features emerged in the faint glow by her bedside and he leaned forward against the railing at the side of her hospital bed.

"I don't want to disturb you," he said softly, "but I sensed that you were awake…"

"It's alright, Ronald," she murmured. "I know you must have questions."

"Yes." His voice sounded unsteady. "And I needed…I just wanted…to say…" Now he wept softly, his next words coming out in little exhalations and unsteady bursts. "I'm so—_sorry!_ My fault! That man—_my_ enemy! Should have been—me!"

"Shhh," she said, finally freeing her injured hand from the tangle of sheets. "Don't blame yourself. Kim has made so many enemies that I expected this day to come a long time ago." She reached out as if to comfort him. "Count the cost against all the people harmed if the two of you _didn't_ intervene."

He took her hand in his and pressed his own palms on either side of hers. "Kim…she's your daughter, isn't she?"

The deep, throbbing ache in her hand suddenly lessened.

"You're damn tootin'!" she replied with a grin. "You haven't seen her around, have you?"

"Ah, not that I know of. What does she look like, again?"

Anne sighed. Despite the outward changes, the boy had retained his goofy sense of humor and was kind enough to try to distract her with it right now when she needed distraction the most. She looked down. And saw the bandages that encased his feet and lower legs. "What happened?"

He followed her gaze downward. "Oh, ah, Thomas Wolfe…"

Anne was confused. "The author?"

"Uh, yeah. He was right after all…"

A light finally flickered on in her drug addled brain. "He said: 'You can't go home again'."

"That's the one. And he was right. Especially when the ashes haven't had time to cool down."

"Ronald! Don't tell me you actually walked into your house while it was still on fire!"

"Okay, I won't." He shook his head. "Besides, the fire was already out. Mostly. And you can't exactly walk _into_ a house after it's already burned to the ground. More like walking _across_ it."

She nodded slowly. "You had to know."

"I—knew. I just—had to _see_."

"I understand."

"Yes ma'am, I'm sure you do. They told me you tried to crawl back toward the house before you passed out."

Had she? She couldn't remember. "I can't tell you very much, Ronald. James and I—and the boys—were visiting your parents. They had just returned from some sort of actuaries' conference and we wanted them to know that you were back and in the hospital…" Haltingly, she told him what had happened and all that she knew from her perspective.

Which turned out to not be much in retrospect.

Ron seemed better informed. "The man who assaulted you was a disgraced former student of a ninja school over in Japan. His name was Fukushima and he was a very bad and dishonorable man. He was probably in my house looking for me and you just had the bad luck to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Global Justice agents found evidence on the bluff overlooking the street that indicates that the explosions were caused by another man named Duff Killigan."

"Kim has told me about him," she murmured. "She always made him sound rather eccentric and harmless."

"I don't know anything about that," he said after a moment.

"Ron…" Anne felt a profound weariness stealing across her thoughts. "Your house…you have no home to go back to…" She yawned and fought to keep her eyes open. "You're welcome to come stay with us…with me," she corrected as she realized how empty her house had suddenly become.

"Well, thank you, ma'am. But we'll be fine. I'm not without certain resources. Besides," he added, gently placing her hand by her side as she nodded off, "I don't think it would be all that safe…" He stared at her face for awhile, remembering how her blue eyes had glowed like haunted sapphires through the sheen of her tears—the perfect contrast to her hair, the color of spun rubies. Dr. Possible was a beautiful woman—he knew that objectively. Yet there was something else about her, her face, her features, a certain—he could not quite put his finger on it.

She reminded him of _someone_. But who? The woman was practically a stranger, the mother of some former classmate or someone. He didn't know…

But the sight of her face in troubled repose moved him in way that his dead heart had not been moved for a very long time. He reached down and lightly brushed his thumb along her wounded cheek. The cut from the shuriken disappeared like a slow burning fuse in the wake of his touch until the butterfly stitches were adhered to unblemished skin.

Then he turned and maneuvered his wheelchair back toward the door, thinking about the golf tees discovered on the bluff overlooking the Possible home. No, it would not be safe to accept the hospitality of Dr. Possible.

Not for her, anyway.

He had Hana to think about.

And he needed to make sure that Duff Killigan would never…kill again.

**RSVP**

An hour passed.

And then another.

The hospital security staff had finally succeeded in sending all of the young women down in the waiting room to their respective homes.

Or at least to the other side of the barricades located fifty feet from the drop-off area in front of the Emergency Room entrance.

This included a few women who had made it as far as Ron's hospital room. At that point, a trio of beautiful women—a blonde, a brunette, and an African American—wearing matching surgical scrubs had assisted in escorting the more ambitious ones back downstairs at hypersonic speeds.

In the pandemonium and subsequent exhaustion, no one seemed to notice that there were two blonde women who looked eerily alike.

The second contained her long blonde tresses beneath a surgical cap and wore a surgical mask over her nose and mouth. Taking a staff-only elevator, she carried a tray up to the third floor, away from Ron Stoppable's wing.

Dr. Anne Possible's room remained dark, though her medication insured that she would sleep soundly through a marching band on a bright, sunlit day.

The "nurse" entered and closed the door behind her, pausing while her own eyes adapted to the faint glow from the monitors next to the hospital bed.

Laying the tray on the night stand, she picked up a large, 60 milliliter syringe and drew the plunger back, filling the chamber with air. Turning to approach the series of I.V. lines carrying plasma and medications to the neurosurgeon's body she stopped as a light clicked on, illuminating the instrument of death in her hand.

A familiar voice spoke out of the darkness. "Who sent you?"

The angel of death shaded her eyes from the beam of the small flashlight that seemed to be pointed at her from a chair in the far corner of the room. "Drakken?"

"Lynn," he responded in turn. "What was the plan? An air embolism? Your idea? Or your master's?"

"What do you care?" Adrena Lynn sneered back at him.

"I…care. And that is why I'm going to let you walk back out of this room and out of this hospital instead of decorating the good brain surgeon's room with _your_ brains."

"Big talk—" she started to say but was interrupted by the sound of a hammer being thumbed back on a revolver. A _Ruger_ snub-nosed, SP-101 .38 Special she noticed, looking beyond the flashlight in his other hand.

"I want you to take a message back to your master, whoever he is," Drakken continued, his voice unnaturally solemn in the darkness. "I don't know what your plan or plot is. You want to take down Kim Possible or the Buf—her sidekick? That's between you and Global Justice. But Dr. Possible is off-limits. Do you understand?"

"You think I can't take that gun away from you and make you eat it?" she answered scornfully.

He chuckled nastily, still hidden in the shadows, and the former extreme sports star felt a chill run up her spine. As she tensed in preparation to make her move, the flashlight beam swung over to another corner of the room.

"Maybe you can take me," he allowed. "But I doubt very much that you can take _her_," he said, thankful that he was able to persuade Dr. Director and Ron Stoppable to lend him backup.

The beam lit up a blonde woman with a very familiar face. For Adrena Lynn it was like looking into a mirror.

"Bebe," Drakken ordered, "it's time to take out the trash."

Both women crouched, facing each other, and simultaneously said: "Freaky!"

"Jinx," Drakken said, "somebody owes me—"

But there was the sound of a zzziiippp and a zzziiiinnngg and both were suddenly gone.

"Nngngt! Drat…"

* * *

**ABOUT THE TITLE: From the burial service found in the Anglican Book of Common Prayer, the phrase "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust," represents the cycle of life and death as notated in the Bible. Plus, we have the very literal ashes of Ron's home, as well…**

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**Author's/Notes****_: _**

**_Thanks to everyone else for their support, comments, and reviews. I'm sorry to say that I think I'm going to have to pretend to "ignore" some of your comments in the future as any kind of response to some of your theories or guesses may give some things away—one way or the other. Of course, not responding to some things could be construed as a response of sorts so—damn! Of course, I could always pretend that I was a politician and just lie to you all. ;-)_**

_**Maybe I should practice a little…**_

_**Okay, boys and girls, here's my first attempt at an author's notes lie: Ahem. "Don't worry, the story is almost over."**_

_**There, how's that?**_

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**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 27**

_CajunBear73 7/16/11 . chapter 27_

Chaos, explosions and enlightenment.

And ok, so there weren't many bodies left at that scene... but the contingency plan sounded familiar. LOL! Thanks for the shout out of sorts.

_**You're welcome, of course. Kind of hard to actually name a character "Cajun Bear" so it was the best I could come up with in the moment.**_

Now it looks like there's two on the retribution trail here; one at home, the other enroute.

_**Looks like…**_

Ron's assist with Anne seems to be sparking 'forgotten' memories as this closes, while Kim is quite gun shy about the ones still present in her mind.

Wonder how soon those 'memories' will cross paths.

CB73

PS: and we're getting the next chapter of OTIH ready...

**_A special shout out to _****CajunBear73****_, my most consistent responder to date. I'd pay to have him do the chapter summaries for me but he needs to keep his nose to the grindstone with _****Sentinel103****_ on "Out There, In Here," a great epic where Ron steps up without all the annoying clutter that I keep throwing into my story. R~13_**

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_Sentinel103 2/22/12 . chapter 27_

First I have the whole episcopal Book of Common Prayer in the other room. Which right do you want...or do you want the 1911 version (I think)

_**You mean for me? Or for the story? ;-)**_

Oh my reply to 'TH: Book 1' is nag, nag, nag. I posted right before I got into this. LOL. Now if you're reading it that much Rip, you know you could always send a review my way too!

OK back to chapter 27 here, so there is nothing left of the Stoppable home? Dang I mean there is almost always something left.

_**Hmmmm…is that a mistake on my part? Or on purpose…?**_

Now we find Ronnie is able to do some more unsual things. Should I make any comments about where I think this is going?

Nah, not right now let the other guys figure it out themselves. Of course I'm so smart I probably out smarted myself right out of the plot line.

Looking forward to see where this is going now.

Larry (Sentinel 103)

**Larry****_, I'm seriously behind in my reading-not to mention my writing-but I've already uploaded The Hunter into my Android so I can read in bed after the spousal unit turns off the lights. If I interpret your musings correctly (which I'm probably not) Ron can levitate and throw 10-foot aliens across the sky but he can't raise the dead. He will, I expect, raise some hell when the time comes... R~13_**

* * *

_A very odd fellow 2/22/12 . chapter 27_

Not sure how I missed this the first time around, but I have to say, I'm glad I caught the new and improved version. Epic Ron-centric tales are among my favorite of any genre, and you're doing spectacular with this one. It's nice to see an author who's not afraid to pull punches, even when that means making tough decisions concerning the fates of our favorite characters.

Looking forward to more of this,

-Avof

**_Welcome aboard to "_****A very odd fellow****_." I'm glad you found this and gladder that you're enjoying it, so far. There _****_were_****_ 55 chapters (so far) when I pulled them down to avoid confusion during the reposts. So this is the halfway point in the re-edits/re-writes. And then... R~13_**

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_Batamut 12/11/12 . chapter 27_

I am a long term reader and thus I know what IS going to happen to miss Electronique but in this chapter, it seems like she is absent with no apparant reason. After all the last scene with her in it she was adamant to stay with Ron so how did she get lost ...?

**_Not really lost, my friend, but since she refused to negotiate with anyone but Ron, there was no point in hanging around while he was unconscious. She expected to come back later after he regained consciousness but...well...as the next chapter reveals, plans change... R~13_**

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_Uberscribbler 7/4/13 . chapter 27_

Xanax time. Maybe some Buspar and a side of Wellburtron.

Its either that, or an industrial-size tab of LSD. This mess...its just getting so far beyond salvage, beyond even comprehension, I don't know how the author manages it.

**_Jeez, Uber, I figured you'd have an easier time of it the second time around. Not much changed in this rewrite, so far, just some added clarity. Was it the new scene at the end of this chapter? Maybe I should kill off some of the charaters to simplify things a bit...hmmmm... (And "mess"? I'm sure you meant to type "mass"...) _**

**_;-) R~13_**

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_Some Dude 8/26/13 . chapter 27_

It's funny how Anne thought was only joking. But then again, his personality is one of someone who would try to lighten the mood in that situation.

**_And given the trauma she'd been through, the physical pain, and fuzziness from her meds, it's no wonder that she didn't read between the lines. Glad you caught on that Ron was truly confused about the Kim references: I was afraid the issue of his memory loss might have been too subtle. R~13_**

* * *

**_BartWLewis chapter 27 . 7/14/14_**

Ron is now a single parent raising his little sister, and doesn't have a complete memory...that might be a challenge, but not for Ron.

You're not still going to do that thing where you age Joss and de-age Ann, are you?

_**Are you saying that that's a bad thing?**_

If you do go for an Ron/Harem thing then I would suggest; Shego, Electonique, Bonnie, Ann, Dr. Director, Tara, and either Kim or Monique.

_**Why not Kim AND Monique? R~13**_


	28. Dust to Dust

**Required Disclaimer:** _All characters and concepts unique to the Kim Possible television series and movies are the property of the Mouse House. The author of RSVP makes no claims—creative, financial, or other to those copyrights within the framework of this story: it is fanfiction and is make available on a limited and not-for-profit basis for entertainment purposes, only._

* * *

**Chapter Twenty Eight – Dust to Dust**

"I imagine you're wondering why I've called this meeting," Mastermind said, her electronically altered voice tuned to a lower, more sinister register. "It is time, of course, for a progress report but, first, I feel it necessary to address some recent concerns…"

Professor Dementor exchanged uneasy glances with DNAmy. The other villains in the room—or to be more accurate now, _minions_—shifted uneasily in their chairs. Other chairs—now empty—added to the overall feeling of uneasiness in the room.

"Lately my timetables have been compromised by surprising bouts of incompetence," Mastermind continued, turning her masked face to stare at the diminutive mad scientist. "The escape of the Flanner girl along with the theft of the pan dimensional vortex inducer was bad enough—"

Dementor opened his mouth to protest that it was Motor Ed Lipsky's fault for both but closed it again as their leader continued: "—but weeks have gone by and neither has been recovered yet!"

Dementor could think of no fresh excuses and all of the previous ones only served to enrage their masked master all the more. He wisely (for once) kept his mouth shut.

"But even more disturbing than certain people's incompetence," the diatribe continued, "are the instances of disloyalty that I have recently uncovered. It seems that Fukushima was not only withholding information from me but pursuing his own separate agenda at the expense of my plans and intel. Although his demise was violent, it was far more merciful than the fate that would have awaited him if I had gotten my hands on him first!"

The others nodded thoughtfully and repressed shivers as they recalled the footage Mastermind's surveillance cameras had provided in last night's debriefing.

"Although _that_ traitor is beyond my reach, I have obtained a great deal of useful intel from two of his people that we were able to extract before the authorities arrived."

The curtain behind Mastermind's floating throne began to part, revealing two Asian men chained to sturdy chairs. Both were naked, both had wires running to their genitals, and both looked like a hundred miles of bad road.

As the curtains opened wider the rest of the tableau came into view. Electronique was spread-eagled across a tilted platform of horizontal metal bars. Thick metal cuffs held her wrists and ankles to the device and were connected to the same wires that were fastened to the unfortunate ninjas. She had been stripped of all of her clothing and gear, including her filtered goggles and she kept her eyes squinched tightly shut against the painful spectrum of ambient radiation that was invisible to everyone else.

"And there is a certain poetic justice in having my former assistant…_assist_…in prying that information loose. Edward? Again!"

A bristle-headed Motor Ed dipped a ladle into a bucket atop a small table near the tilted rack that held the cerulean criminal in the form of a St. Andrew's cross. Moving to her side, he raised the ladle over her squirming, twisting form and tipped it slightly so that a tiny stream of water fell in short bursts. It splashed across her pert breasts and the rippled flatness of her torso. Electronique arched up and forward as sparks danced across her blue-grey skin like red and purple fireflies. Her mouth distorted in an exaggerated grimace but, if she made any sound, it was downed out by the screams of the two bound ninjas who were wired into this short-circuiting power source in a most unfortunate way.

"We know nothing more!" one of the men gasped when the water and the sparks evaporated away with a slight sizzling sound.

"It was our duty to serve our master and obey his orders," moaned the other. "Our contract was with him, not with you. It is not our fault if you are displeased with his actions.

"I know," Mastermind said. "And I think that you have given me all that I need."

"S—so—you'll release us?"

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid your master has incurred a debt that still must be paid. I've already promised Dr. Amy Hall that you will help her with her…_research_. Edward? Use the rest of the bucket before sending them down to the lab. But take your time. I want it to last and I want them all to survive." Mastermind pressed the button to close the curtains. "For now…

"Kim Possible is on her way back to Middleton," Mastermind informed the rest of her troops. Everything needs to be perfect for the mother and child reunion." Mastermind paused and her gloved hands tightened on the armrests of Felix Renton's hovering wheelchair. "There has been a slight change to the parameters of my master plan. Dr. Anne Possible is not to be killed or harmed. If it can be helped." There were several brief glances exchanged between the minions but no overt reactions were in evidence. "You all have been given new instructions in sealed envelopes with your briefings," she continued. "I want you to open those envelopes now and read—"

A new round of screaming began from behind the curtains. Both the voices and the sizzling and popping sounds were much louder this time.

"—read them elsewhere!" Mastermind shouted to be heard over the sudden din. "Dismissed!"

**RSVP**

"Excuse me, Miss…"

Kim Possible looked up from her copy of _In Flight_ magazine. "Yes?"

The flight attendant was holding out a headset. "May I offer you some headphones?"

Kim considered the scant amount of money left for cab fare from the Middleton airport and shook her head. "No thanks."

"Miss Possible? There's no charge for you. After what you did for our airlines last year…"

"Oh, it was no big. Anyone…" She paused as she racked her brain. "I'm sorry; I don't remember doing anything for—"

"Um—the Lowardian Invasion," the flight attendant offered. "I said 'the airline' because you saved us by saving the rest of the world." And she practically forced the headset into the redhead's hands.

"Oh. Well. Uh, okay, then." She looked at the unusual headset. "Uh, how do I plug it in?"

"Its wireless. Just place it over your head and ears and close your eyes. There may be up to thirty seconds delay as it scans for the proper frequency. Be patient. I think you'll find it to be a totally unique experience!"

Kim smiled and placed the unusual headphones over her head, pulling back her fiery mane so that her ears were uncovered to receive the oddly shaped earpieces. There was a slight hiss emanating from the tiny speakers and she could barely hear the flight attendant as she repeated her instructions to allow a little time for frequency tuning and adjustments. The woman moved on down the aisle and out of Kim's sightlines as she settled back in her window seat.

There was some sort of distant music in the background…and…were those voices? Whispering. It was hard to tell as the static hiss persisted. The sound was not unpleasant, though. Almost soothing…like white noise…drowning out the distracting sounds of the passenger jet's engines and the conversations of the people around her.

The "flight attendant" returned a few moments later and sat down in the seat next to Kim. She no longer looked like the woman who had provided the odd headgear. She looked like the passenger who had sat next to Kim up until ten minutes ago when she had excused herself for a trip to the lavatory. Had Kim had been alert she might have noticed that her fellow traveler's clothing was slightly different from her attire just ten minutes before.

But Kim Possible was no longer aware of anything but the voices that were whispering deep inside her cerebral cortex.

Her seat mate surreptitiously checked her pulse and smiled. So far, so good. If all went according to plan, Mastermind had promised that she would be reunited with her precious Debutante.

Then she would plot their escape from that masked megalomaniac!

**RSVP**

It seemed like she had been typing for hours and yet she still had nothing to show for it.

She had typed it every old password that she could remember. Every new password that seemed likely: birthdays, nicknames, pets, social security numbers, locker combinations, D&D character names…nothing worked. If only she could think of some way to decipher the security protocols on the tower's supercomputer.

"You could just ask us for the password, you know," said the unexpected voice behind her.

Shego whirled from the keyboard, her right hand flaring green. "Hego!" she exclaimed, taking in the muscle-bound man in the night-cap and pajamas.

"Sis," he reciprocated, then nodded at the GO-Tower's supercomputer screen. "Surfing the web?"

"Trying to access the Threat Assessment Database," she said, trying and almost succeeding at keeping a snarl out of her voice.

"Well, you know that's a Go Team asset. Are you rejoining?"

"What do you think?"

He turned and left the room.

She went back to trying every conceivable variation on the passwords that she had already tried.

Hego reappeared a few minutes later, minus the sleeping-cap and carrying two cups of coffee. "Tell me," he said, offering a cup to her.

She stared at the cup, frowned, and then accepted it with a half smile, half grimace. "Remember Ron Stoppable? Kim Possible's sid—partner?"

Her big brother nodded. "Both up and disappeared last year."

"Yeah. Well. He's back. And someone's put a contract out on him. Tried an abduction at the hospital. Blew up his parents' home."

Hego whistled. "Saw something on the news. Didn't make the connection. Anybody hurt?"

"His parents are dead. Also half of the Possible family. The father and the two boys. Kim's mother is in the hospital. They say her career as a neurosurgeon is over."

"And you want to use the T-A Database to build an unsub file?"

She nodded curtly.

He leaned in and peered closely. "You seem to be taking this personally."

"Just give me the damn password," she snarled.

He leaned back. "I'd be glad to. Except I can't."

"Can't? Or won't?" she asked through clenched teeth.

"Can't, actually," he said, moving to the table that dominated the room and sitting down. "Mego set it up and then refused to share it with the rest of us. Wanted to be sure that he was indispensible, I guess."

"He has control issues—among other things," she said, defrosting a little. "All right, get him down here. Or do I need to go up and drag his magenta ass out of bed, myself?"

"He's…not here."

"Where is he?"

"I don't know," the blue man answered. "He took off a few days ago, saying he needed to find himself or something. It's just me and the twins right now and none of us have been able to access the computer." He cleared his throat. "It would mean a lot if you were to come back—help us out. Even if just for a little while. Global Justice has plenty of agents and operatives. We're just…family."

Her look softened but her voice remained implacable. "I've got an assignment I can't abandon right now. Maybe when it's done we can talk."

"That would be great." He smiled. "Want me to wake the boys? They'd love to see their big sis…"

Now she smiled a little more. "Especially since I'm not so evil anymore?"

"You mean not evil. Not _so_ evil implies—"

"I know what it implies." She grinned wolfishly. "Let's save the family reunion for another time. I feel like I'm on a ticking clock and time's running out. Did Mego give any clues as to where he might be going? What kind of mood was he in when he left? Did he pack for a few days or an extended leave?"

Hego shrugged his massive shoulders. "None of us had a face-to-face goodbye. He left a note and disappeared while we were out shopping. As for packing? It doesn't look like he took anything with him. Luggage is all accounted for and his personal effects, toiletries, even his cell phone—are still in his room."

Shego stared at her big brother and waited until the twin urges to scream and rip his head off had mostly passed. "Was the goodbye note in his handwriting?" she finally asked.

"Yes. Well—no. He typed it into the computer. Into the screensaver. We _were_ finally able to access that and change it back to the GO display."

"Well, big brother," she said wearily rising from the computer console, "there's no point in dusting the keyboard for prints at this point. I'm sure we've all obliterated any evidence who really typed that note."

"What do you mean?"

"Mego didn't leave that message and the self-absorbed twit didn't take off on a journey of self discovery. He was kidnapped!"

"That's just silly. If he was kidnapped there would have been a ransom note."

The newly minted Global Justice operative sighed. "Call it an abduction then. I'll file a report and you can expect GJ visit sometime within the next twenty-four hours. Do everything you can to cooperate with them, Hego. Mego may be in great danger."

"Aren't you going to head this up yourself?"

"I've got a bad feeling that I already am…"

**RSVP**

Rabbi Katz watched the lawyers depart the hospital room like a solemn parade with briefcases. "Well, Ronald," he said, turning to the young man lying in the hospital bed, "they tell me that you're scheduled to be discharged this afternoon. The attorneys couldn't wait?"

Ron smiled. It was quiet and contemplative, a marked contrast to his former goofy grin. "I have a great deal to do in a short time," he answered. My parents' funeral and their business affairs. My financial and business affairs. I want to pick up Hana from family services as soon as possible so I need to think about where we're going to live."

"Between the insurance, your parents' estate and your Naco royalties, I rather imagine that you can live anywhere you want."

Ron gave his head a little shake. "Makes it harder, not easier. Everything's changed. Everything's different, now. I have to make sure that she's happy and safe! I'm sort of torn between changing our names and disappearing entirely or making sure that anyone involved with what happened is never able to threaten us again."

Katz repressed a shiver. As a rabbi he had felt the presence of Evil before. There was a presence in the room now. It wasn't Evil…but it was powerful, implacable, and determined in a way that promised dire consequences to any that drew its ire.

"Well, it must be nice," the rabbi continued a little nervously, "to know that you'll never have to work another day in your life."

Again that slight headshake. "I can't imagine a life without active purpose, Rabbi. And what kind of example would that set for little Hana? No, I have an idea of what I'm going to do. And I've got appointments with several realtors the day after I'm done sitting shivah."

Rabbi Katz laid a hand on the young man's shoulder. "Well, a word of advice if I may, Ronald? Pace yourself. The deaths of one's parents are a major event in one's life, no matter the circumstances or at what age. Raising a child as a single parent—that's huge! Take the time that you need—and then take more time that you don't think that you need but will. You have the rest of your life ahead of you so don't be too impatient or impetuous right now. And let your friends help. The congregation is here for you. And I've sure that all of your friends will jump at the chance to help out in any way…"

He glanced over at the three women dressed in hospital scrubs.

"Um, Ronald, I can't help but notice that you have three nurses in your hospital room and that they have been standing there for well over an hour. Are they waiting for something?"

"It is time for Ron Stoppable's sponge bath," Dede answered.

"Oh. Ah. Well, if you don't need anything else right now, I guess I'll be going." Rabbi Katz started for the door, bemused at the mental image of three beautiful nurses giving the young man an intimate wash. Were he not a man of God, the image in his mind could easily morph into a pornographic fantasy. _Don't think!_ He scolded himself, _change subject!_

"Oh, Ronald, I almost forgot," he said, pausing at the threshold. "Dr. Possible has asked if you want to have some sort of joint service or memorial."

Ron looked slightly surprised. "Why?"

**RSVP**

The service was beautiful but strange and awkward, all the same.

Ron had arranged for a large urn to be filled with ashes from the living room where Dr. Possible had last seen his parents before the explosions. It seemed odd that the ashes of the couch, the drapes, lamps, and even the remains of the other Dr. Possible and their sons might be mixed in with the Stoppable remains.

Because there were no recoverable bodies, there had been no _Shmirah_, no _Taharah_, _Tachrichim_, or _Aron_. In accordance with the funeral mitzvahs, Ron had been declared Onen and relieved of much of the ceremonial burdens of his parents' _Shivah_.

Because there were no bodily remains and the contents of the urn were suspect or "contaminated" under Jewish law, there would be no _K'vurah_ or burial. Just this memorial service and a commemorative stone that would be laid on the property where his parents' house once stood. Ron would not rebuild there. He planned on making it into a "pocket park" where the neighborhood could come and sit under the trees that would be planted, among the flowers that would be tended, and enjoy the small pond that would be installed with an illuminated fountain.

During the chanting of the psalms and the _Eyl Malei Rahamim_, his thoughts drifted to his memories of his parents over the years and he was surprised to find that many of them were somewhat distant. Cataloging them he realized that his parents were often absent and that many key events in his life had been observed or celebrated alone…

No…

Not alone. Not always.

Red hair and…he realized that he had other parental memories. A tall man with a pipe that he never seemed to smoke. Twin boys running about like younger siblings. And…and…red hair…with green eyes—no—blue…a woman…

Dr. Possible.

Anne…that was her name.

She had been like a…mother? _Best friend!_ To him…

He glanced over and up. It had been decades since the sheer drapes and curtains had been removed from the Ezrat Nashim in the side balcony. Even with her head covered and her face bowed he could see her from his pew on the main floor. _Why was she here? Didn't she have her own funerals to attend?_ He felt the warmth of unaccustomed gratitude that she would come today of all days, to honor his parents…that she would do this for them.

And him.

He frowned as he recalled the incident at the hospital. He had rejected her offer to take shelter at her house because he had assumed that it would not be safe for others to be in his proximity. But the assassin who had infiltrated the hospital's security had bypassed his room and sought out Dr. Possible, instead. It was fortunate that Dr. Drakken had had a premonition and convinced him and Dr. Director to loan one of Dr. Porter's robots to provide the extra security for Dr. Possible's stay…

_Man, that's four "doctors" in the mix,_ he thought with a wry smile.

Then he frowned as he considered the larger implications.

He had assumed that Fukushima's presence meant that _he_ was the focus of the death and mayhem at his parents' home. He had assumed that the Possible family were merely innocent victims by random association. But the attempt on Dr. Possible's life at the hospital suggested something more complex.

And that the danger had not ended with the rogue ninja's death.

He sighed softly. He was perplexed when he tried to think back over the enemies he might have made as he'd traveled the globe helping people. Strangely, those memories were muddled and confused.

Chalk it up to being tired. Or "shock" as the doctors at the hospital had told him. And not just from his injuries but the cascade of loss he had suffered with the deaths of his wife and unborn daughter as well as his parents.

Turning his attention back to Dr. Possible—Anne—he wondered who the redheaded girl was who sat next to her. He dimly remembered that she had a daughter…a classmate of his back in high school, apparently. It was hard to believe that she was that old…

What was the girl's name? Kat? Kit? Kira? Kay? Kris? Something…he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

The girl was staring at him.

_What was her damage?_ The expression on her face suggested it was his fault there were two memorial services today.

Well, who cared what some stranger's issues were: he had bigger concerns than some strange girl's ish. And right now it would be disrespectful to not give his full attention to the _hesped_ that Rabbi Katz was about to deliver.

**RSVP**

Out in the synagogue parking lot Dr. Director was in the middle of a three-way. Conversation, that is.

"You told him?" she asked through clenched teeth in an effort to keep her voice down to an acceptable level outside the memorial service. "What part of _undercover_ assignment did you not understand?"

Kyoko Yoshiko adjusted the sling that held Hana comfortably against her torso and placed her free hand on her hip.

"Please, Madame Director; the man is not the fool we all once thought he was! He has grown up very fast this past year and his—whatever you call this mysterious factor—gives him the power to read people as if he has extra powers and senses the rest of us can scarcely imagine."

"Yes, but—"

"He _knew_ me from before when I was assigned to Nakasumi. If he did not already know that I am a Global Justice agent, he had to have had his suspicions. For me to turn up as the Family Services monitor is just way too coincidental.

"He needs help," she continued. "His sister needs a nanny. And, to hear him talk, he is convinced that he needs a bodyguard for the child, as well. For heaven's sake, _you_ think he needs a bodyguard, too. It is easier for him to accept me for whom and what I am than to try to worm my way in as some civil servant paper pusher. You get what you want, he gets what he wants, and I do not have to lie to him." She shivered a little. "I do not think that would go well—lying to him."

"Are you worried, Yoshi? Because you volunteered for this assignment."

"I am not—afraid—of Stoppable-san. I just do not wish to treat him with disrespect or dishonor."

"Well maybe you should be afraid, Ms. Kyoko," Cece said. The former B-bot's head turned, her eyes blinked, and her mouth opened and closed but the voice that emerged belonged to Wade Load, joining the conversation from his bedroom in a secured Global Justice safe house. "Ron's not himself, these days."

"In many ways, I'd say he's an improvement," Betty said. But her furrowed brow expressed her own reservations.

Cece shook her head—her features and movements so lifelike that the only reminder that she was an artificial being was the incongruity of Dr. Load's voice passing through her lovely lips. "It's not just his reserve and the emotional distance—we've all talked about the fading of—um—his essential Ron-ness. He seems to have suffered some sort of Dissociative Retrograde Amnesia. It may be disassociated and specific in nature…"

"Kim…" Dr. Director mused.

"Specifically, I would say so, yes," the temporary and extremely hot "Wadebot" agreed. "And not just Kim. I've spoken with Ron a couple of times since—well—his return and he seems puzzled about Dr. Possible's efforts to reach out to him. I think she's too distracted by her own grief to fully realize it but Ron barely remembers her. The Possible family practically raised him and all that he seems to remember is that she's the mother of some girl who went to his high school."

"If his amnesia is specific to Kim—and, therefore, her family by association," Yoshi said, "it suggests emotional or psychological triggers as opposed to some sort of head injury or physiological trauma."

"Has Kim contacted Ron since she returned last night?"

"No ma'am," Cece/Wade answered the Director. "Not as far as I know, anyway. Ron's made no mention of it and Kim has yet to call me. Her kimmunicator is still deactivated and I've only spoken very briefly to Dr. Possible this morning."

"So what do we know?" Betty asked.

"Anne's pretty low. I mean, she lost her husband and the twins, sure. But I think she's suffering PTSD from her attack and pain-killers she's taking for her injuries ain't mood elevators. Kim's return was a godsend. I think it's the only thing propping her up right now. I just hope…"

"What?" Dr. Director wanted to know.

"I don't know…" Wade raised Cece's hand to her chin. "Something feels off. I mean, both of them—Ron and Kim—disappeared for the better part of a year. We know some of the stuff that Ron's been through, but Kim…I dunno. They're both disconnected. From us. From each other."

"That's not too surprising, given the circumstances," Yoshi offered.

"Yeah…but…I don't know how to describe this any other way than to say that my Spidey-sense is tingling in the worst way possible!"

"It might be appropriate to bring them both in for official debriefings," the Director mused. "Both of them were serving Global Justice in an auxiliary role when they disappeared. I could bring them both in for separate interviews and then put them in a room together and see what happens. Have a staff psychologist and a couple of counselors on hand for both occasions."

"It may have to wait a few days," Cece/Wade opined. "Ron's shivah starts today.

**RSVP**

Ron was bone weary.

The pain-killers had worn off hours ago and his feet and lower legs throbbed from the accelerated healing of the burns to his lower extremities. He supposed he could have skipped the funeral and the graveside service for the Possible family as he barely knew them…but something down deep inside compelled him to go. In retrospect, he probably should have gone home and sent flowers and a card.

The Possible girl was positively spooky. Though it probably wasn't personal regarding him. He had overheard her friends and classmates remark on her distant and off-putting demeanor, as well.

But then he had the misfortune to be standing next to Anne as the three coffins were lowered into the ground. Even though they were empty, save for a symbolic scattering of ashes, she had turned and clung to him much in the way that a drowning woman hangs on to the side of a lifeboat lest she be pulled down to her own oblivion. Past her shoulder, he could see Mrs. Possible's daughter take a step back. And the expression on the girl's face promised some sort of reckoning for his presumption in holding her mother so.

Now, as he rode up to his suite in the hotel elevator, he forced himself to acknowledge his temporary nanny for Hana.

"I can't tell you how much I appreciate this," he told Mr. Nakasumi's former assistant. "Cutting through the red tape and accelerating Hana's release from Family Services into my custody. Today would have been impossible without your help. I promise to pay you very well for your time."

"I'm not worried," Ms. Kyoko said softly.

"Yeah, well, it's hard to find a twenty-four hour nanny-slash-bodyguard on short-notice."

"Oh, Stoppable-san; you and your American-style humor!"

Ron stopped in mid-yawn and his head snapped up. "I'm sorry—_what?_"

"I said: renting the penthouse suite was probably a bit of overkill. Most of the suites have a comfortable fold-out couch."

He shook his head. "While you're staying with us, you're getting your own bed and your own room. Plus I need a base of operations until I find the right real estate. Plus, the private elevator affords us an extra layer of security. At least I know I won't be walking into a darkened hotel room with somebody waiting for me in the shadows.

The elevator door opened and they stepped into the darkened penthouse suite where somebody was waiting for Ron in the shadows…

* * *

**ABOUT THE TITLE: "Dust to Dust" is the bookend to the phrase (and title of the previous chapter): "Ashes to Ashes." Fittingly, the funeral services have been held for the Possible and Stoppable families in this chapter. If only these were the last funerals in the story…**

* * *

**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 28**

_CajunBear73 7/22/11 . chapter 28_

So Mastermind's found out about Fukushima's deception and Electronique's too? Man she just can't catch a break.

_**Mastermind or Electronique?**_

But I wonder who sat with Kim and what she's planted in her head, courtesy of her 'boss'.

_**Maybe the rewrites have made it a little clearer: Camille Leon. As for wjat was planted? You'll have to wait a bit longer for the answer…**_

The distance observed in Ron, and now Kim, of each other and towards Anne hopefully will cause a little more in-depth look.

But now there's someone hiding at Ron's; friend or foe?

CB73

**_Depending on how you might look at it, the answer could be: both! (Grin) Your other questions may have to wait beyond the next chapter but you will have those answers soon…ish. R~13_**

* * *

_Pavelius 7/22/11 . chapter 28_

You are evil...

_**Well, duh! I've already admitted to it more than once…**_

Is Yoshiko the renewed Yori? because this last line is a very heavy hint towards it...

_**Is it? (Whistles innocently)**_

And i guess that Mastermind will try to play Kim against Ron via autosuggestion...

But because you said you wont reply to theories and speculations... i just let this standing here..

_**(Whew! I almost cracked…)**_

Keep it up

Pavel

**_Sorry _****Pavel****_, I do love it when my readers throw out their theories here. Sometimes they're right, sometimes they're wrong, sometimes they're somewhere in the neighborhood, and sometimes they give me new ideas that show up later… And yes, you are absolutely correct—I AM evil! Ah boo-ya-ha-ha-ha! R~13_**

* * *

_Sentinel103 2/23/12 . chapter 28_

Somebody is waiting for them in the shadows? Hummmm sounds ominous. CB renting himself out...uh you know what that sounds like? I mean as an editor.

And Rippy if you think you're behind in your reading, you ought to see the mess I have.

_**Are you saying that you can "stack it" higher than I can? ;-)**_

OK Ron's selective amnesia is gonna get old...yeah I know you want to have fun with this. Now I wonder how did the bad guys know what flight Kim was gonna be on...also are we sure that the Kim who went to the service is not Camille or a synthodrone?

**_How did Mastermind know what flight Kim would be on? To be honest, I didn't think that it was important enough to the narrative to put it in. One of my weaknesses in past projects has been to overload my stories with details that bog down the forward momentum. But, this is what's cool about this forum: you get feedback as you go and learn what the readers are thinking (and wondering). So I've slipped in that little bit of background but you'll have to wait until Chapter 31 to get to it._**

**_As for the Kim at the service? Good question!_**

And does Betty want Kim and Ron to face each other...I mean ole Betts might find herself in a cold bed again.

_**?**_

And the search is on for Mego...and how long has it taken to figure out he might have been messed with...mannn some members of Team Go are a little slow.

_**The Wegos are too young to be expected to do the thinking for the adults. And Hego—I got nothing'…**_

Enough observations for now...

Larry (Sentinel 103)

**_While I still lack a beta-reader, other readers have also contributed through their reviews and, especially, PMs from time to time. Lately, _****Larry (Sentinel103)****_ has been busting my chops (in a good way) so thanks to all of you who take the time to respond, review, or ask the occasional question—like whatever happened to—or when will—or are you going to—or why didn't—_**

**_Herding cats: sometimes you need a couple of extra trail-hands on the drive…_**

**_As for selective amnesia...I'm sorry, what was the question? _**

_**:-)**_

**_R~13_**

* * *

_Some Dude 8/26/13 . chapter 28 _

I'm wondering... is that really Kim? Has mastermind hypnotized her in some way... or has she been kidnapped and replaced?

**_Good questions. But I'm not telling. Yet. R~13_**

* * *

_SlayerX86__chapter 28 . 4/17/14 _

Sigh ... All powerful Ron but still keeps losing family . Seems more like a useless Ron . Saving a million people is all good but what does his power matter if he can't save the people most important to him .

_**Isn't this the theme of most superhero tales? They can save so many but not the ones that matter most to them. Think about it: DC or Marvel will back me up on this…**_

Also these synthodrones are such cheat sheets . The story seems to be based on the effects of doppelgangers on the lives of the originals .

_**And…you're saying…this is a bad thing? R~13**_

* * *

_PyroNaga chapter 28 . 7/18/14_

'Someone in the shadows...' hmmm, well let's see, the Uptodian assassin is due to return to the story so that's my theory. (Btw, The creation of the race was a pretty creative conclusion on your behalf. There are lowardians, so of course they must have a punny counterpart. lol)

_**Well, of course. If there's a Lowerton, Middleton, and Upperton then, given the established existance of aliens from "Lowardia", one might expect their opposite numbers to hail from a place with a name like "Uptopia." The real question is: is the "Middleton" equavalent "Earth" or is there a third alien race that comes between the other two? Midoria? Hmmmmm...**_

So, the puppet master has a new doll to play with, eh?

_**Which one?**_

And yet, you once said that he is just the 'warm up villain'.

_**Remember, we've pretty much established that Mastermind is a "she" now...**_

Even though i promised myself that i won't even peek at the second saga, i read the summary "...A transformed Kim lurks in the shadows with a dark agenda of her own..." but there was no mention of mastermind...  
hmmm, *strokes imaginary beard* I'm gonna jump to a conclusion and say the mastermind is dealt with but he leaves a hi-wired and messed up Kim behind who will pose a naturally greater threat than her predecessor. (Just like star wars with Anakin skywalker)

_**Pavelius? Is that you?**_

P.S. oh and Rippy, you tend to get less lippy when our theories are actually right. Work on that, will ya? *wink* (Lippy Rippy. try saying that 5 times in a row. XD)

Viva Riplakish

_**Oh yeah? Well...you...you're...just wrong! (In sarcastic, lippy, tone of voice) In fact, if you had read the story more carefully, you'd see that Ned and Mastermind are never seen together at the same time! So there! Ha! Lippy Rippy! Lippy Rippy! Lippy Rippy! Lippy Rippy! Lippy Rippy! That proves...something...I think... LR~13**_


	29. Mourning Becomes Electric

**Required Disclaimer:** _If I had the rights to anything Kim Possible or thought I could profit from KP World in any way, I wouldn't be posting here: it's all good, not-for-profit, fannish fun. That's all._

* * *

**Chapter Twenty Nine – Mourning Becomes Electric**

The air was silvery and almost luminous.

The night mists that drifted in from the sea would often light up with the dawn's breaking light, giving a reddish-orange glow to the vapor-dense air. It was like walking through a fiery cloud beneath the ocean.

This was different, though. Like a mist in a grotto, illuminated by reflected moonlight, the air around him was hazy and pearlescent.

Something moved in the depths of the softly glowing fog.

A wedge of darkness flanked by two fiery blue wisps of flame.

He moved toward them but they glided deeper into the electric mist.

From time to time there was a sound—as if a sob or a sigh were barely whispered. A murmur of grief or longing.

As he moved toward the sounds and the two balls of blue fire bobbed in and out of view, it came to him that he was pursuing a yūrei—a dim spirit—and that he ought to be afraid.

Strangely, he wasn't.

There was a feeling associated with the presence in the fog. It wasn't vengeful like the Onryō or Goryō. There a wistful quality that radiated from the yūrei and it felt familiar.

_She_ felt familiar!

The wedge of darkness came into view again.

Resolved itself into a tangled mass of black hair.

And he knew, even before she turned to look at him with haunted blue eyes—unnatural eyes, the color of the two wills-o-the-wisp that traveled on either side. What surprised him was that those eyes were _not_ dead, the way a ghost's should be…

With a start, Hirotaka awoke in a tangle of sweat-soaked sheets.

**RSVP**

Ron stepped in front of Yoshi and Hana, pushing them back into the elevator with one hand and raising his walking stick with the other.

"Who's there?" he demanded of the silhouette across the room.

Candles burned on the sideboard providing a warm soft light in the dining room. A white tablecloth seemed to glow around the platters of bread and cheese and bowls of oranges, pomegranates, and eggs.

More white drapery adorned the walls, covering the mirrors and reflective surfaces of the suite.

A woman stepped forward, holding a tray with two glasses and a sippy cup. Familiar features emerged from the shadows.

"B-bonnie?"

She inclined her head. "I thought you might be thirsty. Please; make yourselves comfortable. When you are hungry, I've prepared a _seudat havra'a_. It's not fancy, but then, I guess it's not supposed to be.

Ron was very tired—physically and emotionally. The sight of his former social nemesis offering him the traditional condolence meal of mourning had him suddenly off balance. The candlelight softened her features and her expression seemed uncharacteristically gentle, almost spiritual. In place of her customary high-fashion, hot-body wardrobe, she wore a simple black dress with a modest cut and enough play in the material to help one forget the crazy curves that were usually on display. Her voice was low and quiet. If she had spoken to him in the dark, he wouldn't have known her.

"T-thank you, Bonnie," he finally said. "Your gesture is most kind." He reached for the sippy-cup and considered it for a moment.

"Milk," she assured him. "Milk in all of the glasses, in fact. Though I can pour you some water or…"

"Milk is just fine," he assured her, handing the child's cup to Hana. "Milk okay with you?" he asked Yoshi.

"Hai."

He passed a glass to her free hand. "What about you, Bonnie?"

"I'm fine," she answered. "I plan on picking some things up on the way home…"

"After you've broken bread with us, I hope," he said, taking the other glass.

"I—well—that is, I wouldn't presume to intru—"

"Intrude, Bon Bon? Ms. Kyoko Yoshiko is a former acquaintance and Global Justice operative posing as a Family Services social worker and child advocate…"

Yoshi's eyes widened and she almost dropped her glass. "Stoppable-san!"

He waved her off. "Life is difficult enough without complicating it with different versions of the truth. I want to raise Hana in a home where honesty is one of the guiding principles. I hope that I can trust my friends so that I can act in such a manner. Anyway, I hope to count Yoshi as a friend as well as an ally in the days to come and I hope that she will not find my shivah to be too trying over the next few days.

"But other than her and Hana, I have no family now and you are the only other friend who is here, tonight. Won't you sit shivah with me for an hour or two and share the _seudat havra'a_ you have so graciously set out?"

Bonnie bobbed her head in an almost shy nod. "Of course, Ron. I would be honored."

**RSVP**

"This is ridiculous!" Kim Possible fumed. "I am perfectly capable of looking after my mother all by myself!"

Dr. Director took a deep breath and let it out slowly and softly, trying to imagine it was taking the stress and the bad vibes with it.

"Duff Killigan went after your and Ron's families. He's never done that before. And he managed to take out everyone who was there except for Ron's baby sister and your mother. Until he is captured or killed, I'm assigning agents to all of the survivors."

"Well, I'm an agent," Kim argued. "You can assign _me_ to my mother. I've handled Killigan before."

Betty looked around at the other occupants of the stretch limo. Only one returned her look.

"Kimberly," she tried again, "you've been gone and, by all accounts, out of action for the better part of a year. You were only a provisional agent-trainee when you disappeared and I couldn't even reassign your old status without a comprehensive evaluation. Furthermore, when I say I'm assigning a security detail to each of the families' survivors, that includes you and Ron, as well."

"What?"

"Kim," her mother said tiredly, "just think about how we will have more quality time together if the burden of our security doesn't fall on you." Anne Possible continued to stare out the window as she had since the ride back from the cemetery had begun.

"We can revisit your status and the security arrangements in a few days, if you like," the head of Global Justice elaborated. "But for now, just spend time with your mother. You're all that each other have…"

Kim raised her hand in surrender and nodded. "Who do we get?"

The passenger wearing the brimmed hat with a black veil, raised the fine netting, revealing a familiar face. "Hi Kimmie."

"Oh no. Not Shego."

Her former foe frowned. "Hey, I thought we put the past behind us after we joined up with GJ."

"Yeah…well…"

"You okay, Kiddo? I noticed that you haven't had two words to say to your BFBF through two different memorial services."

"My relationship with Ron is none of your business. And _that's_ just another example of why I don't want you on my detail!"

"Whoa, Princess! Just wanting to help. I'm sure Betts can find you another babysitter. I've got other things I can be doing…"

"Like Ron?"

"What?"

"Kim…" Anne muttered.

"We'll assign other agents," Betty interrupted. "Do you have any preferences?"

"I don't care," Anne murmured.

"How about your number one agent?" her daughter asked. "Is Will Du available?"

Betty looked at Kim and blinked. "Really? You…Du…?"

**RSVP**

"Round bread, wheels of cheese, eggs, fruit—as I understand it, these foods symbolize the circle and the cycle of life…" Bonnie faltered as she saw Ron staring at the food and at her. "I-I'm sorry if this isn't right. I've never tried to do a seudat havra'a before—I haven't even been to one in over a decade."

"Bonnie," Ron reached across the table and took her hand. "It's wonderful. I'm really touched to think that you would do this for me. How did you know?"

"About the condolence meal?" She blushed and looked down at her lap. "My parents—that is, my grandparents—we…"

"Bonnie? Are you Jewish?"

"I-I don't know…maybe…"

"It's nothing to be ashamed of."

Her head came up and the fire in her eyes left no doubt that this was the same Bonnie Rockwaller he had known in high school.

"I'm not ashamed of being Jewish! That is—if I _am_ Jewish! My father—his parents are—very traditional. I don't think my father—they don't talk much and never visit. My mother—dad married a _shiksa_. We celebrate Christmas—the commercial part, anyways—and try to fit in like good, generic Gentiles. My father seems to think he needs to be a chameleon for his business relationships. We'll go to temple somewhere for the high holy days but we don't keep kosher unless we have company that practices it. Then the Menorah and the Star of David comes out. I guess blood-wise, I'm half-Jewish. Practice-wise, I'm not even close…"

Ron gave her hand a squeeze. "Relax, Bon Bon. You're Jewish enough. If Adolph Hitler were around, he'd round you up and send you to the camps with the rest of us."

She started to smile and then caught herself. "And who says I _want_ to be Jewish?"

Ron grinned. "Who says that you don't? The food's been blessed; let's eat."

He reached for the bread and tore off portions for Bonnie, Yoshi, and himself. The GJ operative was feeding Hana pieces of fruit. Bonnie reached out and took the bread from him. "Please…under the law, you do not serve as host, nor do you serve us. Let me."

As she rose and began seeing to everyone else's needs, Ron could only stare. "Who are you and what have you done with Bonnie Rockwaller?" he asked bemusedly.

**RSVP**

"Pizza's here," Will Du announced, entering the kitchen with a stack of cardboard boxes.

Kim scowled at him from the kitchen table. "Are we expecting a protracted siege?"

Dr. Director's self-proclaimed Number One shrugged as he placed one box on the table and the rest on the counter. "I like to be prepared. Every time we go out or order in, it creates a vulnerability point in our security. You've got a microwave and I like cold pizza so…synergy!"

Kim popped open the pizza box and eyed the wheel of cheese, sausage, tomato sauce, onions, and black olives. "I'm going to need a knife."

"What? They didn't pre-slice it?"

"Not all the way through. I hate the mess when you have to pull it apart and the toppings come off. Hand me the big one in the knife block by the stove."

Du moved to comply. "I tried calling from the Pizza Palace. I think there's something wrong with your phone."

"Yeah, Mom said the Tweebs were doing some kind of experiment last week and-" she waved her hand as if it completed the explanation.

"It was working earlier."

"It's an on and off kind of thing," Kim said. "I'll call the phone company tomorrow."

"Where's everyone else?"

Kim shrugged as she took the butcher knife from him and turned the box as she considered the pizza inside. "Mom went up to her room to lie down and Agent Harris is in the closet."

Du frowned. "Ah, look, Kim. Angie may be a bit—ah—mannish—but she's happily married and has a couple of kids. I'm surprised that you'd jump to some sort of stereotype—"

Kim waved the knife at him. "No, Will, I mean: Agent Harris is _in_ the closet. I was speaking literally, not metaphorically."

Du stared at the red-headed girl as she began to separate the pizza into more recognizable sections and then turned and walked into the living room. He paused at the entryway and stood for a moment, trying to sort through a jumble of unease. Then he went to the closet by the front door and opened it.

**RSVP**

The elevator doors opened and a beautiful brunette woman stared at them from its interior.

"Uh, hello," Monique said. "Um, two to see Ron Stoppable…

Tara smiled and tugged on her companion's arm. "Monique, this is Dede. Dede, Monique is a close friend of Ron and Kim."

"Acknowledged. Confirmed. You may go up," the B-bot responded, stepping aside to let them enter. She keyed in the penthouse access code and the elevator started up.

"So…she's a…robot?" Monique asked _sotto voce_.

"I am," Dede confirmed.

"Wow! I mean, you look so real!"

"Of course. If you wish, you may touch my form and ascertain for yourself."

Monique shook her head as Tara ducked her head to hide her smile. "No, I mean, you look so human!"

"It is how I can best serve Ron Stoppable."

Tara's smile turned into a slight frown. "Uh, and how many ways are you programmed to serve Ron Stoppable?"

"My programming is highly adaptive and changeable. I can serve Ron Stoppable in any way imaginable."

"Oh yeah? Well I can imagine—"

Monique clapped a hand over the platinum blonde's mouth. "That's very interesting, Dede. Do I understand correctly that there are three of you?"

"Dede is Dede: I am me. There are no exact replicas of me: I am unique. Bebe and Cece are very much like me but each of us is unique now. As we experience existence separately and process all subsequent data, we continue to evolve on separate tracks so our differences and personalities become more distinct from each other."

"Like triplets," Monique observed.

"A serviceable analogy," Dede agreed.

Tara pulled Monique's hand from her mouth. "A word before we go in," she said. "This is not a party but kind of a wake. Ron's Jewish so, for the next several days he's supposed to be in serious mourning. Can't work, can't shave, I'm not sure he can even do housework, so I thought maybe we could offer to help out."

"I'm up for that," Monique said. "I tried to see Kim as soon as I heard but apparently she's not ready to receive company."

The elevator doors opened and both girls blinked in surprise.

**RSVP**

The closet door opened with a slight creak and Du blinked.

It took more than a few seconds for his mind to make sense of the interior arrangements.

Half of the coats and hangers had fallen to the floor. The other half were askew or had fallen on top of Agent Angela Harris, her sizable frame jammed into too small of a space to accommodate her properly. Her arms and legs were twisted and bent in impossible angles and even her head was turned around a good one-hundred-eighty degrees.

There was another slight creak behind him but there was no time to turn before he felt the large blade of the butcher knife slide into his back.

**RSVP**

The penthouse suite was filled with people. All of the black formal attire gave the impression of a serious cocktail party. Without the cocktails, of course.

Vivian Porter caught them three steps in. "You brought food? Good."

Tara nodded. "Bagels." She held out a covered tray.

"Cream cheese and lox on the side," Monique added as Bebe swooped by to take the tray to the crowded table.

"How's Ron?" Tara asked.

Vivian smiled. "He excused himself to wash his hands. That was ten minutes ago. I think he's overwhelmed by all the people who dropped by to bring food and offer their condolences."

Monique craned her neck to look around the main room. "I didn't know the Stoppables were so popular!"

"From what I can gather," the robotics scientist said, "all the people here came out for Ron. They're his friends or people that he and Kim helped on their missions."

"I thought no one ever remembered his name," Tara said, staring wide-eyed at the crowd.

"I think that started to change with the Lowardian incident. First it was the videos on the internet. Now there's over a hundred fan sites on MyFace, alone. I understand they're pulling down fifty thousand hits every day."

"Wow," Monique said. "If it's like this here, can you imagine what it would be like over at Kim's if she was ready to receive visitors?"

**RSVP**

The Possible house was eerily quiet. The only sound was the mechanical click-clack of Agent Du's Beretta as the redheaded teen popped the magazine to check the ammo. Pocketing the gun, she bent down and retrieved his car keys from his pocket.

She paused for a moment, glancing at the door and looking up at the stairway. Anne Possible was the only other living person in the house. Exhausted and medicated, she would probably sleep right through her own murder. Still, Mastermind had said something about taking her off the list for now—though she hadn't been very enthusiastic about the change in her directives. Perhaps Mastermind wouldn't be that upset if she were to stick to the original plan…

She shrugged, pocketing the gun. If so, Anne Possible was a secondary project—not her primary target. Time was of the essence and the variables weren't worth the risk. If she was successful, she could return afterward and time would not be so much of an issue then…

The green-eyed girl slipped out the door with nary a sound.

Back in the kitchen, the pizzas began to grow cold.

**RSVP**

Bonnie Rockwaller stood in the doorway to the kitchen area and looked across the sea of fellow mourners with mixed emotions.

On the one hand, she was pleased that so many people shared her appreciation and new-found affection for Ron. She was happy that he had such spiritual and emotional support at a time like this.

Still, she couldn't help but feel a little disappointment and jealousy that an evening that had started with such relative intimacy had been party-crashed by so many rivals.

_Not a party!_ she scolded herself.

_And "rivals"? For what?_

Tara and Monique had just arrived, each rocking their little black dress with generous curves that rivaled her own. While neither had donned a design that was disrespectful to the occasion, both were more stylish than the plain, black number that Bonnie felt was most respectful to spirit and the laws concerning shivah and _Shloshim_**.**

Dr. Director was wearing an off one shoulder black dress that stopped just short of being an evening gown, her black eye patch seeming more like a stylish accessory than cover for a disfigurement. Shego wore a black pantsuit with an open collared shirt. The shirt was a dark, dark green that was all but obscured by a pattern of fine black filigree. A choker of jade and black onyx encircled her throat. She had changed since the service at the cemetery.

All of the other cheerleaders had turned up, save for Jessica, Liz, and Kim. Marcella and Hope were pictures of elegance, the Asian girl wearing a black knit with a short skirt and a draped neckline—if it wasn't a Balenciaga, it was a great knockoff. Her best friend was wrapped in a form-fitting bandage dress with a strappy design that showed off her back to great effect. Crystal had slipped into a knee-length pencil skirt that was topped by a strapless silhouette. Even the alternates, Maggie and Linda, had turned up, wearing lace and sheath numbers, respectively.

That nerd, Vivian, however, was the real competition this evening: her dress was little more than an ebony doily, with a sheer, black body stocking underneath. The robot scientist could really slut up her wardrobe half the time but tonight her outfit stopped just short of the line of being inappropriate.

And that Hispanic girl who worked down at the cinema—what was her name? Ziva? Something—she had put together a slacks, shirt, and bolero vest ensemble that might have come off a bit masculine on some women but reinforced her own pixie-like beauty.

Bonnie gave herself a little shake as she realized that she was jellin' again. Unnecessarily since none of the others were talking to or flirting with Ron.

_Where had that boy gone to?_

**RSVP**

The car circled the hotel three times before parking on a side street. The redheaded driver that emerged was only half-dressed for the _seudat havra'a_ up on the top floor: her knit top was acceptably black, though its shortened hem barely covered the underswell of her breasts. The tan cargo pants and the naked expanse of flesh in-between would be an affront to the social conventions that she was about to invade.

But not as much of an affront as the nine millimeter in her pocket and the bloody butcher knife tucked into her belt against her back. As she approached the hotel at an angle that would conceal her from the outside security cameras, she raised her signature grappling gun and began to sight it toward an upper story balcony.

It appeared that Kim Possible, the girl who could do anything, was about to do the unthinkable…

* * *

**ABOUT THE TITLE: ****_The title of the chapter, "Mourning Becomes Electric," is a play on words (as most of my titles are). In this case it's of the title to the Eugene O'Neil play, "Mourning Becomes Electra."_**

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**Authors/Notes:**

_**(2/24/12) I don't know if the website is screwing up the reports or people are coming back every few days and just skipping to the last chapter. Here are the Visitor Numbers (not Hits but bonified individuals) for the last four reposted chapters as of today:**_

_**Chapter 26 - 83**_

_**Chapter 27 - 15**_

_**Chapter 28 - 8**_

_**Chapter 29 - 25**_

_**The numbers suggest that readers are assuming that there's only one new chapter since they last checked in, when actually there may be two, three, or even more...**_

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**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 29**

_EnterpriseCV-6 7/28/11 . chapter 29_

why is Kim about to possibly murder some people?

**_Keep reading: all will be made clear as time goes on and the chapters unfold. Just remember (this goes for all of my readers) most of everyone's earlier assumptions will turn out to be wrong. R~13_**

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_Pavelius 7/28/11 . chapter 29_

Man... you ARE evil... killing the background-people left and right without hesitation...

Poor Will Du didnt even had a chance against a brainwashed Kim... lets see how many of Rons potential girlfriend she will take out...

Keep it up

Pavel

**_Keep reading: more will be made clear soon…ish. R~13_**

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_Burner 7/28/11 . chapter 29_

Sorry to tell you this but you have to stop doing it, your fic it's just making circles of itself or you write more in lenghty to show more history and substance or define well where the hell are you going with this, seriously man have you planned the history?

In 29 chapters have happenned 4 or 5 five things in history your villain have no substance, and everithyn bad that has happened holds no meaning escept your sadism with the characters.

**_I hear you, Burner. Sometimes a story doesn't work for every reader the same way. It does seem darker than necessary. It may even seem aimless and sadistic at times. But there really is a plan in all of this and things will turn out better than you think (at this point)._**

**_Always a tricky business when addressing one's critics, one can either come off as too defensive or unable to take constructive feedback. I hope that's not the case here as I feel that I am getting some helpful course corrections in the process and getting to know some of the audience better, as well. _**

**_One problem I think I have with some of my readers is the "perceived" length of the story._**

**_I was very upfront in the story description in saying that this was going to be "Epic and Roncentric." In other words, it was going to be a large work. And twenty-nine chapters may seem long at first glance but in relative terms, it really isn't. Let's do the math…_**

**_I was "nudged" way back when for turning in relatively short chapters/installments. For example: at the end of Chapter 29, RSVP was 109,930 words (123,318 as of 12/10/12 with the expanded reposts)—a bit longer than many of the stories here but, by no means, anywhere near a record holder. As I write this, another epic tale, "In There, Out Here" has posted 30 chapters (one more than mine) yet has a listed word count of 267,179—well over twice my word count. It's a great story (so far) and I make no other comparisons to it other than to point out how the number of chapters is not necessarily indicative of the story's actual (vs. perceived) length. Another story, "Stoppable Rules," currently has a word count of 93,658 (about 16,000 words less than mine) but is only broken down into 10 chapters at this point—in other words, one of his chapters equals about three of mine._**

**_In fact, working in Microsoft Word, my chapters average around 10 to 13 pages in length and that includes Author's Notes, Previous Chapter Review responses, and Legal Disclaimers so my chapters are deceptively short._**

**_I've often wished that I could go back and combine some of my chapters so that they would be fewer and longer—but that would muck up the chapter referencing for the already posted reader reviews. _**

**_That being said, I do realize that more than a few of you are anxious for me to "get on with it" (as they say in Monty Python). Believe it or not, I've been trying but I already feel like I've been short-cutting the character development and the back stories. As Motor Ed would say, Seriously: If you want to read a _****"Kim and Ron have a misunderstanding/problem, fix it, and end up happily ever after, in just 30,000 words or less,"****_ there are plenty of those stories here, already. Not that there is anything necessarily wrong with that kind of story but that's not what I wanted to write. _**

**_The difference between a novel and a short story (or a miniseries and a half hour TV show) is that you have more time and more room to develop the characters and the background whereas too much back-to-back action is just exhausting and rather blurry—for the reader, never mind the writer—if it's kept up in the long format._**

**_Here's the good news—and the bad—for some of you. I'm finally at the point in the story where I had hoped to be a couple of months ago. From my point of view, at least, it's going to get more interesting (by my lights any way). _**

**_But, if RSVP was a four-part miniseries, it would only be Monday night at this point. _**

**_Besides, Mastermind has yet to be unmasked. That has to happen before the really scary and most dangerous villain of all shows up to give everyone the battle of their lives!_**

**_And sadistic? Hmmmm…I guess it appears to be a bit dark—though you may be surprised before things get wrapped up that it may not be as dark as you've been led to believe. In fact, there will come a dawn, eventually, and then a glorious sunrise that no one can see or believe at this point…_**

**_But it's going to get a bit darker, first. And remember that you were warned at the beginning: Rated "M" for adult themes and character deaths. A final warning to everyone: beware of assuming too much, too soon. ;-) It WILL get better for the people that most of us care about. But it has to get worse, first… R~13_**

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_Sentinel103 2/23/12 . chapter 29_

OK I stand corrected Rippy, this is where some more hayhem starts. Now I wonder if this is real brainwashed Kim or psychotic murderess synthodrone Kim...hold on wasn't Wille Boy a member of Master Mind's consortium?

Oh well you can't make and omelet you know.

Larry (Sentinel 103)

**_Actually it wasn't the real Will Du reporting back to Mastermind earlier in the story but Camille Leon posing as Agent Du to get inside GJ and pass intel along to the masked villain. (But, yes, it was the real Will Du annoying Dr. Porter over in Japan.) R~13_**

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_Some Dude 8/26/13 . chapter 29_

Ron is both the luckiest and un- luckiest person ever.

**_Word. R~13_**

* * *

**_BartWLewis chapter 29 . 7/15/14 _**

Wasn't Kim still on an airplane? Unless that Kim that was at the funeral is that Chamellion chick or one of those robot things like Eric was.

I wonder how people will react when they find out that Ron was married and was expecting a child? I'm sure all the ladies will be shocked by that.

I feel very strongly that the Kim who is about to crash the part is not the real Kim.

_**Shhhhhhh! Don't spoil it for the new readers... R~13**_

* * *

cabrera1234chapter 29 . 7/15/14

what happen to kim was she brainwash by mastermind?

_**Well...yes...and no...you'll see...eventually... R~13**_

* * *

sakura89luischapter 29 . 7/15/14

this story is fantastic. i hope that ron soon starts to make a move against his opponent. please make it into a harem.

_**I'm glad you're still onboard, man. Ron will have many opponents before we're done and he won't battle alone. Now, about this harem thing: any advice? R~13**_

* * *

_**Ken106348 chapter 29 . 7/15/14 **_

Another great chapter. I can't wait for the next

_**Neither can I...so here you go: "Order up!" R~13**_


	30. The Returns of Kim Possible

**Authors/Notes: ****_You need to read this chapter very carefully for the nuances and the hidden clues (well, you should read every chapter more carefully, anyways) and no, that's not a typo in the chapter title…_**

* * *

**Required Disclaimer:** _This is a work of "fan" fiction, not a legal or valid representation of the Kim Possible universe. No rights are implied nor any profit derived from this work. It is for fan purposes and enjoyment only…why are you laughing? No, I really am a fan. Really! Stop laughing!_

* * *

**Chapter Thirty – The Returns of Kim Possible**

He sat on the floor of the shower with three closed doors between him and his guests, weeping softly so that no one would hear.

He grieved for his parents—though, truth be told, they hadn't been a regular presence in his life for several years.

He felt badly for the Possible family—though Mrs. Possible's daughter had kind of creeped him out today. What was it with the "stink-eye," anyways?

He was deeply moved by Bonnie's gesture in preparing a seudat havra'a for him…and then the others showing up. He hadn't realized that he was important to anybody.

Except maybe Hana.

He was worried for _her_. If anything happened to him, who would take care of her? How could _he_ take care of her? Thankfully, money would not be a problem: the insurance money, his parents' estate and trust, and his continuing Naco royalties guaranteed that neither of them would ever have to work another day in their lives. But that was no way to raise a child and teach them values. He'd seen how money and social standing had ruined the Rockwaller girls and Señor Senior, Junior. While he would need the help of nannies and bodyguards—or bodyguard nannies—Ron vowed that he would be a parent as well as a big brother for his little sister. And that meant setting examples.

So, as he sat and quietly wept behind the glass shower door, behind the master bathroom door, all behind his closed and locked bedroom door, he also prayed.

He prayed for the souls of his parents and the departed Possible family members. He prayed for his dear, lost Yori. He prayed for the little girl who was now so utterly dependent on him.

And he prayed for guidance, that he might know what to do. With his life, with his wealth, with his current and future obligations. "Show me the way," he whispered. "Help me become the man I need to be. Help me become the man Hana needs me to be. And help me become the man that _she_—"

He hesitated.

What was he asking?

Who was…_she?_

He had already asked for help in raising his sister…

It came to him slowly but he began to realize that all of what he was mourning was masking a deeper grief down deep inside of him. A great emptiness that felt as if something had been wrenched up out of his very being, leaving an open wound.

At first, he thought it must be his poor dead wife. But when he meditated upon this he realized that it was the memory of Yori and her sweet and tender love that had made _this_ wound, _this_ emptiness bearable.

_So, if not Yori…_

_…__then who?_

**RSVP**

Kyoko Yoshiko sat in her bedroom and watched Ron on her laptop screen as he mourned privately.

Or not so privately as Global Justice had installed spy cams throughout the penthouse to assist her in watching Hana and monitoring overall security.

She felt badly about snooping on her charge's guardian but he had been absent from his guests long enough to cause her concern.

To think, just three years before, she had thought him to be a callow youth and an uncouth barbarian. Now she was fighting the fantasies engendered by those _Au Pair_ movies on the WRRC (Women's Romantic Romance Channel). Perhaps if she knocked on the bedroom door…

No, she decided as she watched him fold his legs into the lotus position and begin to meditate, this was probably not the best moment to intrude. Especially since his eyes were starting to glow an unearthly blue color and he was beginning to levitate a full eight inches above the floor.

**RSVP**

Dr. Director slipped her cell phone back into her clutch purse and sighed.

"Yeah, me too," Shego replied as she looked around the penthouse suite. "Looks like the competition increased ten-fold."

"What? No! I can't get a hold of Agent Du."

"You mean the guy they call Agent Du-du? Really Betts, I think the princess can take care of herself and her mom. And if you can't trust your agents enough to go ten hours without your own personal surveillance, you need to do a little agency housecleaning."

Betty frowned, an expression reflected on more than one face around the room as Ron's absence began to be noticed. "I'm not worried about Agent Du. And he's learned to be a little more of a team player these past couple of years. Kim even requested him for her detail, if you'll remember. No, it's Kim that I'm worried about. She doesn't seem herself—did you notice?"

"Yeeaahh," Shego drawled, "now that you mention it, Kimmie has been rather distant, rude, and almost hostile toward me. Oh wait, that's how she's _always_ treated me."

"Not since the Lowardian invasion and you came over to work with us," Betty argued. "And I haven't seen her say two words to Ron."

"Now _that's_ what I was picking up on," Shego said. "Ron hasn't exactly reached out to Kimmie, either. I mean, it's not like he's hostile or something. It's more like he doesn't quite know who she is. It's like he has selective amnesia or something. Do you think it might be a by-product of the coma?"

Betty pursed her lips. "Maybe. Or maybe it's trauma from whatever that synthodrone originally said or did to drive him into exile half way around the world." She absently scratched at her eye patch which had been itching of late. "In fact, Kim may still be the victim of PTSD from the same incident…"

"Just a different set of responses or coping mechanisms," Shego hypothesized.

"At least we can pretty much figure that whoever sent the syntho-Ron, won't be trying that track again."

"Excuse me, what?"

"Based on the amount of green stuff leading away from the Possible cabin, our forensics team is pretty sure that it goo-ed out."

Shego shook her head. "Doesn't mean whoever's behind this couldn't make another."

"As I understand it, the process isn't cheap to begin with. So why would they try it again?"

Shego shook her head. "Are you kidding me? Why _wouldn't_ they? Because the bad guys never use the same M.O. twice? Yeah, you're right. That's why Ron wasn't turned into Zorpox _twice_ by an Attitudinator. That's why Monkeyfist only used his monkey-ninjas that _one_ time. That's why Duff Killigan _stopped _using exploding golf balls—"

"All right! You've made your point," Betty hissed. "Let's not be talking about exploding golf balls the day of the Stoppable-Possible funerals, okay?"

"Yeah, you're right. But listen, even if they don't put the time and resources into creating another syntho-Ron, there's presumably another syntho-Kim still running around out there."

"It seems silly that they'd try something like that again."

"Sure. Because we'd expect it and be ready for it," Shego snarked. "Oh wait; we _don't_ expect it so we _haven't_ included it in the security protocols."

"Oh, all right, I'll brief Yoshi on your concerns." The head of Global Justice glanced around the room. "I don't see Dr. Drakken here. Do you?"

Shego shook her head. "He's been acting a bit…off, the last couple of days. And his color…"

"He looks less blue," Betty interrupted.

"Yes! I thought it was just my imagination." Shego paused. "Maybe he stopped taking his anti-plasma-radiation pills. Since we're really not working together any more…" Her voice trailed off thoughtfully.

Betty pulled her cell phone back out. "Well, before I talk to Yoshi and update the security protocols, let me try getting a hold of Agent Du one more time."

Shego turned at a blur of motion out of the corner of her eye. "Did someone just go into Ron's bedroom?"

**RSVP**

As he delved deeper into his meditative trance, he expected it to grow darker. Instead, there was light. And the light grew in scope and brightness as he approached it.

And there was a presence in the light. An intelligence…that was not quite human.

_Are you…God?_

**No, Ronald. Do you not know me?**

_Y-you seem familiar…_

**When you were a child, we spent a lot of time in each other's company. As you grew and your focus changed, I merged with your conscience. For some years I accompanied you externally in a meld with your animal pet.**

_Rufus? I—remember now. You are my spirit guide!_

**Of sorts, yes. What do you seek, Ronald?**

_Purpose, I guess. I'm all alone, now—except for Hana—and it feels strange._

**You've lost your parents: you feel grief.**

_Well, yeah. But no. I mean, I miss them. And now I have to be a grown up with no parents to fall back on if I screw up. And that's a worry, especially since I'm all that Hana's got. I sure don't want to screw that up!_

**I can't imagine that you will. You have always tried to do the right thing.**

_Yeah, well, tell that to Mr. Barkin. And then there were those two times I turned evil..._

**But not because you wanted to, ****the light reminded him.**** You can't worry about the things that are outside of your powers to avoid or change.**

_But what about the things that _are_ within my power? It's a big bad world out there. I've got the mad fu skilz and enough money to play poker with Bill Gates and J.K. Rowling. Should I start a charity, fight crime, create a fortress of solitude, or what? What about Hana? How do I protect her? How do I raise her? Should I find a nice foster family? Get married? What if I turn evil again?_

**Relax, Ronald.** A peaceful feeling washed over him as Rufus continued to speak. **The life you have lived to this moment has prepared you for all that is to follow. Trust in your heart—**

_But my heart isn't—isn't—_

**Isn't what, Ronald?**

_That's just it: I don't know! I feel like something is—missing._

**Grief often leaves a hole in one's heart.**

_Yeah. No. I mean, it's more than my parents dying. And I miss Yori every day. But this is something else._

**Perhaps you are feeling the emptiness that can only be filled by the one, true love, that we each yearn for.**

_No._

**No?**

_I've known true love, Rufus. Lightning doesn't strike twice. Yori was the dearest, sweetest woman in the world. Kind, generous, beautiful—and a badass ninja, to boot! It was my honor to know her and love her and it will be my honor to cherish those memories for the rest of my life._

**A few moments ago you asked if you should marry again to help raise Hana.**

_Rufus, I'm not so naïve as to think I could never find companionship again. Or even love. Sort of. But true love? No woman will ever come close to the ideal that was my Yori. It's unthinkable._

**And yet you meditate to seek the answer to the emptiness within yourself. An emptiness that you do not understand because you have yet to remember or think that which you cannot think, now.**

_Huh?_

**Ronald, the answer you seek, you already know.**

_I do?_

**But you have forgotten it.**

_I have?_

**So, you cannot think the thought that you have chosen to forget.**

_I can't?_

The light seemed to smile.** Apparently not.**

_But you know what I've forgotten?_

**Yes.**

_So, tell me._

**No.**

_No?_

**Yes.**

_Yes?_

**Yes, the answer is no.**

_So, you won't tell me?_

**That's right.**

_Why?_

**Because you don't want me to.**

_I don't?_

**That's right.**

_But I do. I _do_ want you to._

**No, you don't.**

_I_ order_ you to tell me._

**You've already ordered me to ****_not_**** tell you.**

_I have?_

**Yes.**

_When?_

**A while ago. When you were going through a time of great pain.**

_Well…that doesn't narrow it down much._

**It is good to see that your sense of humor is still intact. It may be the greatest of all of your talents and powers. May it continue to serve you well in the days ahead.**

_Wait. I've got more questions._

**In life there are always more questions. But you have company coming and must return to the world to fulfill your obligations. I will leave you, however, with three thoughts. First, do you remember the old saying, "Think globally, and act locally?"**

_Yeah._

**Start with baby steps. To save the world, one must first save that which is around him.**

_The Talmud says, "And whoever saves a life, it is considered as if he saved an entire world."_

**Begin with that.**

_Is that it?_

**It's a better start than most are able to make in an entire lifetime. Second, open your heart. Love will come to you again and, when it does, your heart must be open to receive it.**

_How will I know when it comes?_

**How will you know if you're ****_closed_****? That's just it, Ronald; mastery in love is like mastery in anything else. You must practice it at every opportunity.**

_You, ah, mean—_

**No. Think deeper. You ****_know_**** what I mean, Ronald.**

_Heh, yeah. I do…_

**If you keep your heart open and ready, you will know the answer when you are ready to remember it. But your path will not be easy nor will it be quick. A storm is coming. You must protect those around you but remember that they will protect you, in turn.**

_Anything else?_

**You have been given great powers and abilities. With great power comes great responsibility…**

_I've read that somewhere._

**It is time to step up. You spent the greater part of your life living in the shadow of another and, because of that, you have been slow to come into your own potential, Now, to be worthy of the answer that you seek, you must stand in the light and cast your own shadow. And then you will be worthy…**

_Of what? Worthy of what?_

**Come see me again. You should meditate often and, in time, you may actually remember some of our conversations.**

_Aw, man! You mean I'm not going to remember everything we've talked about here?_

**Consciously? No. But what we retain unconsciously is often more important than what we remember. **The light began to fade.** Oh, and one more thing. You need to work on your unconscious control of your mystical monkey power. You are not aware but it has been affecting the libidos of the women within your sphere of influence.**

_Libidos?_

**Your MMP is leaving a trail of weaponized pheromones in your wake.**

_Pheromones?_

**Amp it down, Chief; you're making your lady friends horny.**

_Ohhhh! Uh. I suppose I won't remember that, either, huh? Rufus? Buddy? Aw, man…_

**RSVP**

He emerged from the shower feeling slightly confused but better. He could remember no specific insight, no answer—indeed, he wasn't even sure he could remember specific questions.

But there was a sense of quiet assurance where previously he had felt uncertainty. A sense of purpose, even if there was no concrete plan in place, as of yet.

He stopped at the bathroom sink and splashed a little water onto his face. For a moment, the reflection in the mirror looked back at him with turquoise eyes. Then all appeared normal. Better than normal, in fact.

He turned to the door and opened it as he switched off the bathroom light. For the first time in quite a while, Ron Stoppable felt as if he were ready for anything.

That feeling lasted all of three seconds.

**RSVP**

She stood in the darkened bedroom, her heart pounding in her chest.

Almost quivering with anticipation, she waited.

She was used to getting what she wanted.

Until now.

Perhaps it was the recent complications of this past year.

Perhaps it was the realization that everything else, up until now, had been shallow wants and desires.

The real prize had been within reach but had been invisible until now…

The question was how would he feel about her, given the circumstances between them?

All of her talents, all of her abilities, might not serve her in this. Might make things worse, given their history.

And speaking of history, she reminded herself of all of the times that her pride and arrogance had proved to be her greatest weakness. If there was to be any chance of tearing down the barriers between them, she would have to be humble. Apologize for the past. Promise a new beginning if there was to be any chance that he would look at her again…

But would she have the chance to say everything that she needed to say with all of the others just outside the bedroom door?

This wasn't the time or the place that she would have chosen to come to him, to expose herself…

Her heart, her desires.

Her hopes for a future together…

But with every day that was passing, every hour, she could feel her chances slipping away and the gulf between them widening until she was lost in the crowd…

And lost to the fate that, even now, made this visit so dangerous.

Perhaps this was utter foolishness. The odds were better than even that he hated her, would push her away. Would…

She shook her head. A kiss, at least. She would have that before he sent her away. She thought that she could manage that, at least.

Finally: the sound of water in the sink and, moments later, he came through the door.

He was older, now. Taller. His chest and shoulders broader, the muscles in his forearms suggesting a man's body beneath his shirt and tie. She hadn't fully appreciated her opportunities the last time they had kissed. She shivered in anticipation as to what differences the time between them would make.

"Ron," she said, pushing her thick red hair away from her face, "its…Kim."

Coming from the brightly lit lavatory, it took him a moment to make out her features in the darkened room. The lights of downtown Upperton glimmered in a fairy landscape beyond the bedroom windows and sliding glass doors to the balcony. His eyes flashed blue as they adjusted to give him greater visual clarity.

"You're Dr. Possible's daughter."

She blinked in surprise. "Why, yes. Yes, I am." He made no immediate response. "And your girlfriend," she finally prompted.

He smiled. "What is this? A joke?"

The response was not what she expected and time was of the essence. Eventually, someone would come looking for their host and these precious moments alone would be lost. She needed to move things along.

"Ron, baby," she said, "I know that you've been through a lot. We have both been through a lot. I just can't believe that it's taking us so long to get back together."

He put up a hand. "Wait. Back together? Are you saying that we have some kind of history?"

She gaped at him. Didn't he know her? Nothing had prepared her for this! She reached across her front and made a tugging gesture: her clothing fell away and she was suddenly nude in the silvery glow of the rising moon. "Do you remember this?" She ran her hand back across her torso, cupping a breast and then stepping forward.

The old Ron might have stepped back. Possibly run screaming from the room.

The new Ron was past his childish fears and more experienced, now, in the grown-up world of carnality.

More importantly, he was strangely drawn to this beautiful young woman with the tousled mane of fiery red hair. She seemed oddly familiar yet all the more mysterious for his inability to place her in the context of his known world.

She took another step and he, unwilling to retreat and curious to meet this new challenge, stepped toward her.

They met and she reached for his face. Tilted it down to her mouth.

He met her lips with his and she sighed. Deeply. Against him.

This! This is what she had missed! All the more because she had never fully experienced anything like it, before.

She took his hand and drew it downward. She craved his touch, his embrace, and was half rewarded as his other arm encircled her narrow waist.

His eyes opened as the moon's pale light was partially eclipsed. Looked across her cheek to the windows on the other side of the bed.

Someone was on the balcony, some forty stories above the street.

The glass door slid open.

His eyes flashed a brighter blue as he considered the woman breaking the threshold of his quarters.

She, too, had a tousled mane of fiery red hair. She wore a black crop top that bared her torso from just below her breasts to the tan cargo pants that drooped from her hips. She held a hair dryer in one hand and a small, automatic pistol in the other. More surprising, she looked just like the naked girl who was still in his arms.

"Ron Stoppable," the new arrival hissed: "time to die!"

And then she opened fire.

* * *

**ABOUT THE TITLE:****For those who have been complaining that Kim's been gone too long, here's two Kims for the price of one! And, of course, why this chapter is entitled "The Returns of Kim Possible"!**

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**Authors/Notes 2: **

**_And for all of you who may think that I've wrenched Kim out of Ron's memory and thrown her away…this chapter should disabuse you of that theory. Ron has come to realize that there is a great emptiness inside of him. The fact that he does not know who is missing from his heart and mind does not mean that the matter is closed forever…_**

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**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 30**

_pbow 8/1/11 . chapter 30_

Great story so far. I knew you'd bring the syntho-Kim back sooner or later. ("Clean up in the penthouse suite! Bring a mop and bucket for syntho-goo!")

Don't worry about chapter length or number of chapters, only concern yourself about quality. You are a great, creative writer and you shouldn't put stock in what others say about your writing. (Other than mispelt wordz and runon sentences and all the other grammary type things we all worry about.) What I was told a long time ago by Ray Bradbury, (picture 12 wide-eyed students sitting in his movie lot office talking about writing! God, what I learned that day!) is to write to please yourself. If you like it, your fans will too.

At one point, even before you let on that tall dark and grusome was female, I thought you were going to have Kim be the bad guy, going insane from when she was first attacked by syntho-Ron. Now my money is on Bonnie. I know you won't tell me if I'm right or not so don't worry about it.

_**You're right! (I won't tell you. **__**But…)**_

Keep up the good work and I look forward to each and every chapter you bang out.

Live Large,

Paul

**_So, _**_**pbow**_**_: you've actually sat in the presence of the great Ray Bradbury? That is so cool! I've met more than a few SF writers and count some as personal friends but Ray Freakin' Bradbury! He's the guy who had the biggest literary influence on the first half of my life and remains one of my favorites to this day! I am sooo jellin'! R~13_**

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_Burner 8/1/11 . chapter 30_

Sorry for the bothering again.

Just to clarify I don't want (ehrm or care really) for Kim and Ron to be together hell I like more Yori, and I apologize about the critic about the lenght of the history (I didn't have reallized that it is above the 100k barrier) my complains it's in the content of the fic, while well writed it doesn't help in the history it's like reading lord of the rings again...

too much of the chapters it's used to tell us how wonderfull is Ron escept in here He's sort of a pussy don't get me wrong what you have put him trough its worst that what Rowling did to Harry and there are things done to Ron that would put men in theirs knees scept this is a history about a hero.

I don't intend to tell you what to write but I how reader have a opinion and I liked what you writed 'till 13th chapter after that IMHO the history just... keeps rounding and rounding if it's a novel lenght you should be around 1/3 of the history but I don't feel plot advancement thats all.

XD sorry for the inconvenience I like how you write and what you write but I read to entertainment myself not to cut me in angst, I'll keep aroun to check the fic so don't worry about what I say I'm just a random lurker with a big mouth that have expressed his opinion thats all

**_No need to apologize, _**_**Burner**_**_, everyone's opinion is welcome here. As long as we're all polite and respectful, no one should feel muzzled or unwelcome. _**

**_I hope no one is inhibited by the fact that the author will participate in the discussion from time to time, sharing my own opinions, as well. I hope we can see every conversation as a spirited discussion rather than an argument, so, feel free to say whatever you want. I'll feel free to take readers' advice (as I already have in some cases), take a pass on it (as I have in others), or take it under consideration (as I continue to do on some points—like the forward momentum of the story and Ron's angsty issues)._**

**_For example, I've said that this is planned as a long work and it should be judged in that context as opposed to holding it to short story standards. Understanding that it _****is****_ a long-form work and still feeling that the plot is dragging is a different matter and that's what I hear you saying. _**

**_I tend to agree with you there._**

**_I was just clarifying for everyone's context that this is still a bit early in the story arc and that there are other characters waiting in the wings to make their first appearance. R~13_**

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_critic 8/23/11 . chapter 30_

It's good, I am pleased, however I will be upset if anyone comes back from the dead

**_Hmmmm…I have to ask: What constitutes coming back from the dead? The reanimation of a dead body? Someone presumed dead who's actually not? The number of missing corpses does tend to give one pause...however, if no one dies and no permanent damage is done, then the stakes are pretty low and who cares what happens, then! But would it be too displeasing if I manage to work in a scene with a decomposing Will Du shambling through the doorway, moaning: "Brains! Must have brains...!"? R~13_**

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_Sentinel103 2/24/12 . chapter 30_

OK me me, either another syntho Kim, plus the 'real' Kim and of course we are not mentioning Camille...So Camille being Camille plays the immodest Kim. The 'real' Kim is bent on murder...Now where did we put that syntho Kim?...Oh well it escapes me...

Rufus the spirit guide isn't gonna let Ron have the easy answers is he. Good this story isn't long enough. And good ole Ronnie boy has got a lot to relearn, maybe now the girls around him will 'act more normal' rather than the sex crazed vixens that they appear to be. Now maybe we can get back to some good old fashioned destruction and mayhem. ;-)

Larry (Sentinel 103)

**_I'm always up for mayhem! And, yes, the multiple Kims should keep things lively from time to time—realKim, synthoKim, robotKim, CamilleKim, alternateuniverseKim, cloneKim—not to mention & JossKim… R~13_**

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_CajunBear73 2/25/12 . chapter 30_

Well as to the word count to chapter ratio you compared to with BS176, lets just say that we got very wordy in our escapades there... Especially in the chapter with the psychedelic party in Wade's backyard...

But here, Ron's getting some surprises of 'what he forgot', and the shock and gunfire will just blow that inkling right out of his mind.

Now for more deception.

CB73

**_I'm always up for deception! Keeps the KP readers here from getting too jaded… R~13_**

* * *

_Some Dude 8/26/13 . chapter 30_

I'm confused now, so so confused.

**_Sorry, man: it's only going to get worse...and then better...and then worse...and then... R~13_**

* * *

_sakura89luis chapter 30 . 7/17/14_

shes back! i love the scenes with ruffus and ron, there hilarious.

_**She's back? Or They're back? (LOL) R~13**_


	31. Bedroom Bedlam

**Required Disclaimer:** _How many ways can I say it? I do not own the rights to Kim Possible in any way, shape or form and make no profit from telling this story, monetary or otherwise. _

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**Chapter Thirty-One – Bedroom Bedlam**

It was amazing the amount of crap that one could accumulate over a couple of decades. Of course, his mother had majority of that crap squirreled away in her house—the detritus of childhood: finger-paintings, attendance records, grade school book reports…

And even though her collection probably dwarfed his, the amount of "stuff" that he had collected since escaping to college and a life beyond was considerable.

And that wasn't taking into account all of the possessions lost in exploding lairs over those past four years!

He had to dig through three old trunks before he found what he was looking for. He brushed off the old college yearbook and carried it back upstairs, leaving the basement twice as cluttered as it was barely an hour before.

He laid the musty volume on the end table next to his old easy chair and then spared a few moments to program the microwave in the kitchen and trade his size seven loafers for a pair of fuzzy, bunny slippers.

By the time he eased back down into the soft, comfortable chair, his coco-moo was cooling back down to a drinkable temperature. He dropped a pair of small marshmallows into the chocolaty sludge and cracked open the heavy binding.

The years fell away as he turned the pages of the yearbook. Old haunts, old friends—lost to distance and time…

And lost to the choices leading to a career in villainy…

_Sometimes a whole raft of years—decades—perhaps a whole lifetime can be determined by a missed moment,_ he thought.

_A missed opportunity. _

_A missed…life._

There were the obligatory scrawls from former classmates, penned at the end of the school year, between the last day of classes and the final moments at the graduation ceremony…

**_Don't let your meat loaf this summer!_**

**_Chemistry was a blast, Drew! (Good thing the dean never found out!)_**

**_Too bad about the bots, man—next time try building a blow-up doll with a vibrator! (Ha!)_**

**_Ya can't win the science fair if your science is only fair._**

**_See ya next year cuz you're sure not graduating this year!_**

**_Little Willie was a chemist / Little Willie is no more / What he thought was H20 / Turned out to be H2SO4!_**

And then there was the odd message among the many missives from the Science Department geeks.

**_You know you didn't have to spend all of that time building a robot for the dance…I know there were girls who would have said yes if you had only asked. A.C._**

Odd because the handwriting was feminine.

Odd because the thought was…kind.

And brutal…because there was only one girl that he had wanted to ask.

But he hadn't.

Instead, his roommate did.

And two weeks later they were married.

And two months later she was carrying his child.

Was that it?

Was that what severed his path from the herd's and set his face toward the lonely goal of world domination?

He couldn't remember. "So long ago," he murmured. And he had forced himself to not think about that year.

The humiliations.

The disappointments.

And that one missed opportunity…

He turned the pages and there she was.

The Gymnastics Team page.

On the balance beam. One long, shapely leg up. Her lean torso arched back, her breasts jutting out and up. The black and white photo was striking but it did not do justice to her fiery red hair and blue, blue eyes.

He had met her as she was moving into the freshman dorm a week before Spring semester was scheduled to start. Helped her carry the boxes from her old Volkswagen bus in the parking lot, up five flights of stairs to the grubby little room that she would only occupy for a single semester before moving up and moving on.

She had thanked him with a kiss on the cheek and then had taken his hands in hers and examined them closely.

He had tried to hide them from her but instead of the customary jokes about his tiny hands she had remarked upon the delicacy of his bone structure. "These are the hands of a great surgeon," she had gushed without a hint of irony or sarcasm. "Are you sure you don't want to go into Medicine?"

He shook his head and mumbled something about Physics being his mistress and muse, all the while blushing from the attention of the pretty, young coed. He scarcely remembered their parting.

He ran into her again, a week later, at a downtown bar after the first week of classes. It turned out that she was a cheerleader and a member of the gymnastics team as well. A lot of stress for a med student and it was clearly evident that she liked to party hard to blow off steam.

"Hey," she called to him as he approached the bar. "You're Drew, ri?"

He nodded, pleased that she remembered him. Especially since she was remembering him through a haze of alcohol that her group had clearly been consuming for awhile now.

"Owe you a drink," she told him, draping a pale, freckled arm across his shoulder. "Like 'quela?"

"What?" The music was loud and Anne's annunciation had softened with each succeeding shot she had thrown back.

"Horsey Quervo!" she yelled, holding up a bottle half filled with amber liquid.

One of the other cheerleaders sat up and the bar and whooped. "Who's next?"

Her blue eyes sparkled in the dim lights of the bar. "Me!" she suddenly yelled, sliding her hand down his bicep and along his forearm to grab his. She turned and led him over to the great oaken counter as the other girl dismounted.

"Ev'body? This is Drew! He helped me move!"

There was a round of salutations from a bevy of beautiful coeds.

"Drewbie, here, is going to be a great surgeon," she said, hopping up to sit on the bar. "But he is very, very shy."

He wanted to tell her not to call him "Drewbie." He hated that nickname. He wanted to correct the whole surgeon misunderstanding. He opened his mouth but couldn't find the words. She was unbuttoning her shirt.

"Never got to proply thank you," she was saying.

"Uh, helping was its own reward," he heard himself say.

"Well, lees I can do is offer drink!"

"You bet"s and "You go girl"s erupted all around, turning to cheers as she added: "So…_body_ shots!"

"Bo—body…shots?" he repeated, bewildered.

"Yes, Drewbie." She extended her hand and he took it by reflex. She pulled him up closer as her shirt fell open, revealing flawless, white skin and a baby blue bra cupping snowy globes that seemed too opulent for the athletic frame below. "D'you know how to do body shots?"

He shook his head slowly, trying to not stare.

"Drewbie? Do you know how to do _tequila_ shots?"

"Um. Um, yeah. I guess…" He dutifully recalled what his roommate had told him: lick the salt off of your hand, drink the tequila, then suck on the lime wedge.

She nodded and leaned back. "That's ri. So, firs thing is salt. Lick my neck."

_What? What was she talking about? Was she sweating? Was her neck salty from perspiration?_

One of the other gymnists stepped up. Her garnet colored hair was extremely short—a boyish pixie cut—but the rollercoaster curves were evident despite the zipped up tracksuit she wore. She moved next to Anne but turned her head so that she could watch Drew as she moved her mouth toward the redhead's collarbone.

The tip of a pink tongue emerged from the new girl's lips and it touched the hollow at the base of Anne's throat and traced a lazy path across and up the side of her neck to just behind her ear…

…and then made its way back down again!

Anne shivered a little and Drew thought that he could see her nipples harden through the gauzy blue material of her bra.

As the other woman pulled back with a smile, a lock of her dark, dark auburn hair fell down over her right eye, obscuring it, and she asked: "Salt you?"

Anne grinned wickedly. "Assault me? Why Lizzie, I thought you'd never ask!"

The other woman picked up a salt shaker and doused the side of Anne's neck, leaving a coating of fine white crystals where the saliva glistened on her skin. She looked over at Drew and then back at Anne. "Oh my, you weren't kidding! He really _is_ a shy one!"

Anne nodded. "But kind of cute."

"Too cute. I like my men a little more rugged." She squinted at him. "Maybe if he had a scar…"

"A scar?" Anne laughed. "Really, Liz?"

"Maybe a little one. Like by his eye or something." She shook her head and grinned. "Better get on with it, A.C.; before he turns and runs away!"

Anne nodded and picked up a lime wedge from a nearby bowl. "Now Drewbie, you know what to do. You start with the salt. And what do you do?"

It slowly penetrated his befuddled brain that she had asked him a question. "Uh, I…lick it?"

"Not just shy but slow, too!"

"Hush, Lizzie. I think he's very sweet." She held up the lime wedge. "And at the end, what do you do with this?"

"I—uh—bite it and—uh—suck the juice…"

Anne nodded, her eyes seeming to glow in the darkness. "Yes. Suck all of the juice…" She held up the bottle of tequila. "And, in between, you do what?"

"Take a shot of tequila." He felt like he was finding his way to firmer ground and his voice was a little stronger.

"_Body_ shot of tequila," she corrected.

And he felt the ground grow less firm as she tucked the lime wedge between her perfect, white teeth and swung her legs over and up, to lay back down on the bar's surface. Lifting a shot glass, she filled it with the bottle of tequila and set the bottle aside. She then turned and looked directly at him with those big, blue eyes. And her perfect lips curved in a smile around the green wedge of lime.

"Salt!" the others around them chanted. "Salt! Salt! Salt! Salt! Salt! Salt!"

Someone gave him a friendly shove, propelling him to her side.

Slowly he bent down, feeling as if he were having an out-of-body experience and watching someone else lick the salt from Anne Credible's neck. She shivered again as his tongue slid up the side of her neck and he felt a little shiver, himself, down deep inside.

And then, dimly, as if from far off, he heard the chanting change: "Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!"

He turned to reach for the glass but she had lowered it and, as he stared, transfixed, she tipped it, pouring the amber liquid into her navel. The tequila quickly overflowed the dimpled well of her tummy but she had sucked in her stomach so that the flesh between her ribcage and the waistband of her low-rider jeans was a concave bowl, holding most of the drink around the outskirts of her belly button.

"Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!" the chanting continued. And, as he stared down at the unexpected fountain of erotic delight, she set the now empty glass aside and put her hand behind his head, pulling his face down…

The phone rang, the harsh jangle startling him out of the long-buried memory and causing him to spill his coco-moo everywhere.

"Drewbie?" his mother's voice grated at him from the receiver. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing, mother," he seethed, wiping the chocolate drink from the pages of the yearbook with his shirttail. "Just going through some old, pleasant memories…"

His mother began going on and on about something or other but he wasn't really listening.

He was thinking how maybe there were second chances in life…

**RSVP**

"Hello Shego, hey Dr. D."

The ladies in question looked down at an unexpected apparition: a young, African American boy that they were accustomed to seeing on a computer monitor.

"Hello, Dr. Load," Betty said.

"Yeah, look, Nerdlinger: no more with the 'Dr. D' lingo. It wouldn't be respectful."

Wade looked at the scowling green lady. "To Dr. Drakken?"

"To Dr. Director, Geek Boy."

"Somebody needs a moodulator chip set on happy," he sing-songed back at her.

"So, Dr. Load," Betty interrupted. "I'm so used to seeing you in Two-D. This is far more impressive than the Wade-bot. How are you doing this? Three-D projector in the room? On a mini hoverpad?" She waved her hand through his image only to end up smacking him in the head.

"Ow! I'm really _here_, Dr. Director!"

"Oh, Wade! I am so sorry!" She gently touched his cheek. "And, off duty, you can call me Betty."

"Uh, sure thing, Dr…uh…Betty." He looked at Shego.

"What are you looking at?" she growled.

"That's okay." He smiled. "I already know what to call _you._ Oh look, there's Monique!" he said and took off across the room as Shego's frown began to deepen.

She took a step as if to follow and Betty laid a hand on her arm. "I don't know about you, Sheila, but all of these college freshmen are making me feel decidedly old."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. I'm only twenty-six and I feel like the adult chaperone at a Teen Mixer."

Betty looked at Shego. "You're only twenty-six?"

Shego gave the one-eyed woman a sideways look. "Yeah. Why? My file say something different?"

Betty waved her hand. "I'd forgotten. It's just that you seem older."

Shego cleared her throat. "When you say 'older' you're meaning more mature…adult…grown up…as in the _emotional_ sense. Riiight?"

"No, I meant in the physical sense," she answered, knowing that she was deliberately pushing the other woman's buttons, now. "Sorry. Must be your frown lines."

"My _frown_ li—?" She stopped abruptly and lowered her voice. "I do _not_ have frown lines. Twenty-six is too _young_ to have frown lines!"

"Scowl lines, then. Honestly, Sheila, you keep scowling like that and one of these days your face will just freeze up like that. Permanently."

"God, Betts! You sound just like my mother!" Her scowl faded and was replaced by a look of sadness.

Betty felt a little wistful, herself. "I wish I could have been someone's mother…"

"Jeez, you sound like the clock's already run out on you."

"I'm closing in on forty, Sheila."

"Coulda fooled me. If anything, you look like you're growing younger."

Betty shrugged. "My best years are behind me." She touched her eye patch. "I'm damaged goods. I scare most men away thanks to my rank, my work, or…"

"Your competence? Trust me, sweetie; you don't want a man who's easily intimidated. Of you _or_ anything else."

"Speaking from experience?"

"They're out there. Somewhere. Problem is we're both such workaholics we haven't had the time to go looking."

"And, assuming we made the time," Betty asked, "just _where_ would we go looking?"

Both women's gazes drifted to Ron's bedroom door.

"I'll tell you…after I've found mine…" Shego murmured.

Betty's reply was interrupted by the sound of gunshots behind closed doors.

**RSVP**

Tara found Bonnie in the kitchen area, washing a stack of dishes in the sink. "Hiding?" she asked the teal-eyed brunette as she picked up a dish towel and began drying the glasses that were done and in the drainer.

Bonnie shrugged. "It's crowded out there and the dishes were starting to pile up. The dishwasher is already full and…and…"

"None of the other cheerleaders will talk to you?" Tara guessed.

"Yeah…" The former Queen B answered softly.

"Can you blame them?" her friend asked. "They feel like you lied to them."

"How come you're talking to me?" Bonnie's eyes remained focused on the sudsy water as she worked.

"Because you're my friend, B. I'm not happy about the lying but I know that you were lying to us without realizing it because you were mainly lying to yourself."

Tara finished drying the glasses and set them back out on the sideboard before returning to dry the plates that Bonnie had set into the drainer.

"So where does that leave us, now?" Bonnie asked quietly.

"Before I answer that, let me ask you something. And be truthful, please."

Bonnie nodded.

"This…"

Bonnie finally looked up and Tara gestured again. "All this—what did you call it?"

"_Seudat havra'a_."

"It's like a Jewish meal for the mourners, right?"

Bonnie nodded again.

"Why?"

"Why?" She almost dropped the dish she was scrubbing. "Because Ron's Jewish. He just lost his parents—"

"I get the tradition," Tara interrupted. "And it was a totally kind and appropriate thing to do…on the surface." The blonde stared at her friend, her gaze softening as she took in the surprisingly menial task the privileged girl was performing.

Bonnie finished cleaning the dish in her hands, rinsed it, and handed it to Tara. "You're asking if I did this to score points with Ronnie."

Tara nodded.

The brunette sighed. "No. Yeah. I don't know." She dried her hands and leaned back against the counter to the right of the sink. "To be honest, it was kinda like the chicken or the egg thing: which came first? The idea just seemed to come out of nowhere. But as soon as it did—or not too long after—it occurred to me that this could be my 'in'." She looked down and shook her head. "And it occurred to me over and over and over again until I just felt dirty about it. I think it started out as a nice gesture. I mean, all the crap I gave him in high school and he runs around saving people. Ends up saving the whole freaking planet! I owed him, ya know."

Tara nodded. "We all owe him."

"So, I thought I'd do this. Just a little thing, you know. Nothing fancy. The _seudat havra'a_ isn't supposed to be fancy. Just a little food so the mourners don't have to cook or prepare a meal. Thought I'd set it up and be on my way. In and out. Didn't want anybody to know."

Tara's eyebrow twitched up.

"Oh, not like that, T. It wasn't that I wanted him all to myself—"

The blonde eyebrow arched higher.

"Well, yeah, I want him all to myself. But not like this! Not while he's grieving. And, again, that damn thought whispers through my head: _score points_. But I want to do something for him and I want it to be pure—only that damn voice whispering in my thoughts won't let it be pure! But, like I said, I didn't want anyone to know because it's like a good deed. And when people know you're doing a good deed, it spoils it. Because—because it looks like you're doing it to _look_ good…"

"'Therefore, when you do a charitable deed'," Tara quoted, "'do not sound a trumpet before you as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, that they may have glory from men. Assuredly, I say to you, they have their reward'."

"That's in the Bible, right?" Bonnie asked.

Tara nodded. "And the rest goes: 'But when you do a charitable deed, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, that your charitable deed may be in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will Himself reward you openly'."

"Yeah, well, that was kind of it. Didn't want to make a big deal out of it. But the word got out…"

"That was kind of my fault," Tara admitted. "And I'm afraid I wasn't too discrete as to whose idea it was."

"No wonder the others aren't talking to me!"

Tara smiled. "They'll come around. They're just starting to realize that they have each other for competition, now."

Bonnie reached out and touched her friend's arm. "And what about us, T?"

"If this—" she nodded out toward the main room where people were breaking bread and sharing condolences, "—was a scheme to use Ron's grief to score points, then I'd be kicking your ass right now, Bonnie Rockwaller.

"Discretely and outside," she elaborated as she saw Bonnie's eyes grow wide. "But I don't think that's the case. You did something good and right and fine and can't help seeing the opportunities in the process. But you haven't tried to capitalize on those opportunities so we're cool."

Bonnie started to smile. "Tha—"

"As for competing for the same guy?" the blonde continued. "No hard feelings there, either."

Bonnie didn't like the sudden look in her best friend's eyes. "Because…?" she asked cautiously.

"I'm going to win and you're going to lose," she replied saucily.

Bonnie smirked in turn but couldn't come up with a suitable comeback so she grabbed the dishtowel out of Tara's hands and snapped it at her.

The blonde flinched away with a grin. Then flinched again and lost her smile as she realized the popping sounds were muffled gunshots.

**RSVP**

The moment she heard the distinctive reports, Yoshi knew what they were and what they meant. She could even tell that they were nine millimeter rounds and fired from a short-barreled gun.

Her training had been extensive.

Her first impulse was to run toward the sound. But Ron was not her assignment, Hana was. Never mind Global Justice, Ron and even (unbeknownst to them) Sensei had been very emphatic about this.

She ran to the bedroom door, locked it, and shoved the dresser across the entryway. Then she snatched the sleeping toddler from her crib and made her comfortable on the floor, behind the bed, and curled around her to shield her tiny body with her own.

**RSVP**

Ron was confused.

For most of his life he had been bewildered by girls in general, _pretty_ girls more specifically, and pretty, _naked_ girls—well, the fact that his brain hadn't already shut down was pretty extraordinary.

The fact that the pretty, naked girl was writhing against him and doing things with her mouth that went way beyond his not inconsiderable experience with his late but skillful wife was a testament as to how far Ron had evolved over the past year. And now that there were two, _identical_, pretty girls in his bedroom (although only one was naked), it was a perfect miracle that he was even able to react.

But react he did. As soon as he saw the gun, he was disengaging with Naked Kim in order to better deal with Gun-totin' Kim.

Unfortunately, both were very intent on their separate agendas and Ron could only react and counter-move at this point. Which put him behind the curves—um—_curve_. The gun came up and began firing before he could fully break the embrace and move both of them to a safer position.

The first two shots missed.

The third traced a fiery line across his cheek.

The fourth and fifth caught Naked Kim in the upper left arm and chest as she turned toward her murderous doppelganger.

The sixth plowed into the ceiling as Ron flung his beautiful human shield out of the way and knocked the gun upwards with a front kick.

Spinning around, he executed a quick hop and brought his other foot up in a spinning roundhouse kick that knocked the pistol from the Second Kim's hand as she brought it back down for another shot. The gun discharged again as it flew out of her grasp, drilling a hole through the wall.

A scream could be heard from the main room where the guests were gathered and someone started pounding on the bedroom door.

Ron could neither unlock the door nor see to the wounded girl as her disarmed twin pressed her attack by somersaulting into him. He tried to roll past the blow but tripped over the downed girl's legs and he went down on top of the other Kim. Above him, the other Kim tried for an axe kick to his face but only clipped his ear as he jerked away.

"Ron? Are you all right? Unlock the door!" a muffled voice called over the shrieks in the outer room and the increasingly loud thumping of the wooden barrier.

"Ron can't come right now," his attacker yelled, "because he's DEAD!" And she pulled a cartwheel to come up behind him as he got back up on his feet.

Twisting, he parried a flurry of blows with a series of forearm blocks as another voice commanded: "Take out the door!"

"I don't think I ca—"

"Dammit, Shego, he could be bleeding out in there!"

_**FTHOOM!**_ went the door in a shower of green sparks and splintered kindling.

The force of the explosion blew both combatants across the room and over the bed where they ended up in a mutual clinch. Grappling gave Ron the slight edge with his greater weight, mass, and upper body strength but his opponent was not so easily subdued. She fell back, tucked, and rammed her feet into his solar plexus.

He managed to hold onto her arm as people began to boil into the room, but his other hand lost its grip on her shoulder.

Shego stared in stupefaction at the Blonde Kim lying in a pool of blood on the floor and then up at the Redhead Kim who had just produced a giant butcher knife from behind her back. The girls around her screamed as they all saw the large blade start a deadly arc toward Ron Stoppable's throat. Betty leapt across the bed but her tight dress dropped her down short of her target. Shego's hands came up as if to ward off the terrible sight that was about to unfold.

Then there was a combined green and blue flash—the sound of broken glass and shattered hopes—and a dying, keening wail.

Kim Possible was suddenly gone and the glass windows overlooking the outside balcony for the fortieth floor were largely missing except for a gentle rainfall of broken glass.

**RSVP**

"It's bad, Director," Agent Ives told her via cell phone. "Agent Harris is dead and the hospital isn't sure that Du is going to make it. Mrs. Possible came downstairs and found the bodies and her daughter gone. She called 911 and then Dr. Load. When she couldn't reach him, she finally got around to calling us. To say she was upset would be an understatement."

"Yes. Well. Dr. Load is indisposed, I'm afraid," Betty said, watching the paramedics work on the small, still boy. "He caught a stray bullet."

"How bad?"

"I don't know. It went through an interior wall and struck him in the back. If that fool Du hadn't loaded his sidearm with armor-piercing rounds, it probably would have lost enough velocity at that point to tumble. Then it would have ricocheted around inside his body, shredding his organs and killing him outright. As it was, it exited as a through-and-through and struck the woman he was talking to in the upper thigh." Betty glanced over at Monique whose leg was being bandaged and immobilized by another EMT. "She was lucky. It struck the femur but missed the femoral artery."

"Any other casualties?"

Betty shook her head. "It's complicated and we're still in assessment mode. There will be a full briefing tomorrow at 0800. In the meantime I want a double security detail on Dr. Possible and tell her that I will be there as soon as I can give the forensics team directions and get the wounded to the hospital _and_ coordinate their security."

"Er, Director—Dr. Possible isn't here."

"What! Where is she?"

"The last thing she told us over the phone was she was on her way to talk to you. Then she hung up. We've dispatched agents to try to catch up to her but you'll probably see her, first."

"All right. Secure the premises. I want the Possible house locked down tight for forensics."

"Already on it."

"Good work. Keep me informed. Director out."

As soon as she disconnected, her official line beeped again. "Dr. Director."

"Simpson, Ma'am. I'm on the ground, directly below the crime scene."

"And?"

"As you suspected, Director. It looks like someone tossed a garbage bag full of lime Jell-O off of the roof. You'd need an army with pooper scoopers to collect most of the remains. The rest—well—I'd recommend a fire hose."

"Photos, agent. Then collect what you can and give the area a good rinsing. You know the drill."

"Aye, Ma'am."

Betty slipped the phone into waistband of her panties. Her dress had split up the side-seam when she leapt across the bed, giving her quick and easy access to her undergarments. "How is he?" she asked the paramedic working on Wade.

"I've got him stabilized and ready for transport," was the answer. "Once he's at the hospital, it will be up to God and the surgeons."

"One of my agents will ride along for protection. Tell the doctors that I do not want Dr. Load out of my agent's sight lines so she will scrub in as an observer. And post another on-watch for Will Du."

"Understood."

As she turned away, Monique called to her. "Dr. Director…"

"Are you all right, Ms. Jenkins?"

Monique's face, drawn and lined with pain, frowned. "I won't know until I find out about Wade and Ron. How is he?"

Betty nodded toward the gurney that was carrying Wade toward the elevator. "You know as much as I do concerning Dr. Load. Ron's fine. Just some cuts and scrapes and a couple of bruises."

Monique visibly relaxed though it was still apparent that she was in a great deal of pain. "Tell him…tell him…"

"Tell me what, Mon?" Ron was walking toward them, holding a drowsy Hana up to his shoulder.

As he passed Betty he murmured, "You need to check on Sheila."

Then he squatted down and reached out with his free hand to squeeze his old classmate's fingers. "How you doin', Mon? Is there anything I can do?"

Betty made her way back to the bedroom where the paramedics were readying Camille Leon for transport to the hospital, as well.

Shego stood right where Betty had left her, staring at the broken window across the room.

"Sheila?"

"I—I—she's gone, isn't she?"

"Come with me," Betty commanded, grasping her arm and forcing the plasma powered woman to the broken window. "Look!" She pulled a large shard of broken pane from the casement and held it up in front of Shego's face. "Green. Not red. Goo. Not blood." She gave the dazed woman a little shake. "Sheila! You were right! That wasn't Kim Possible! You. Didn't. Kill her."

"Then…where is she? Where _is_ Kim?" Shego asked slowly

"Where's my daughter?" Dr. Anne Possible was shouldering her way through the phalanx of agents and EMTs and into the bedroom. "Where's Kim?"

**RSVP**

Kim Possible—the real Kimberly Ann Possible—was happy.

Even though the strange, masked person in the floating chair had put her in a cell with metal bars, she was content.

No, not merely content: actually happy.

"My, my, Kimberly!" the grotesquely distorted voice said. "You've had a very busy evening!" The strange, genderless, masked and cloaked figure was back.

"I have?" Kim wondered as two, red-suited henchmen carried an unconscious woman into the cellblock and placed her in an empty cell two cages down. Another woman occupied the cell across the corridor from Kim. She did not seem happy.

"Why yes," her mysterious captor continued. "You've been taken to the hospital with multiple gunshot wounds and you went urban skydiving without a parachute!"

Kim pondered the strange words with a large smile. "It sounds like I was in three places at the same time."

"Precisely."

"How did I do that?" she asked happily.

"Aren't you Kim Possible, the girl who can do anything?"

"Why, yes! Yes I am!"

"And soon, my dear, you will do more! Much, _much_ more!"

As the floating throne turned to carry Mastermind back down the corridor, she shot a venomous glance at the still unconscious Electronique in her specially insulated cell. Bad enough that the little blue bitch had switched allegiances, trying to hide the Stoppable boy's brief stay in the Middleton hospital. Her final act of betrayal had been to purge the lair's computers and fry half the system before she could be neutralized. Mastermind's only consolation was that the little traitor had played double-agent long enough to insert a data-mining worm into all online ticket and travel databases. That's how she'd been able to intercept the Possible girl.

It was just a matter of time before she had the boy, too.

Dr. Hall continued to beg her for one, two, or all three for use in her monstrous genetic petting zoo. Mastermind, however, remained adamant, committed to a swift, verifiable, triple execution. Too many failed villains all made the same mistake of leaving the back door open for last minute escapes or rescues.

She wouldn't be so careless, she vowed as she exited the cell block. The Stoppable boy would die first. And if the synthodrone failed in its mission, tonight, then she'd use the real Kim as bait to draw him to his doom. After that, there would be no reason to keep her alive, even if she was the lesser threat.

Moments later the lights were switched off for the night and the heavy metal door reverberated with the clanging sounds of reinforced locking bars sliding into place.

In the darkness, the moodulator chip on Kim's forehead blinked on and off, like a tiny beacon.

* * *

**ABOUT THE TITLE: Bedlam has come to mean uproar, pandemonium, commotion mayhem, confusion, disorder, chaos—well, you get the picture. It was originally the name of the first mental institution in London. So "Bedroom Bedlam" seems particularly apt.**

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**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 31**

_EnterpriseCV-6 8/3/11 . chapter 31_

Funny thing with this probably being my first review I had figured this out A LONG TIME ago I know the Real Kim was being brainwashed and things like that so it shows sometimes if a person reads a story for a while and doesn't review they can figure things out pretty quickly

**_Yeah, I tend to throw a little misdirection to keep the readers on their toes. At its heart, I'm writing the story as a mystery as well as a romantic dramedy and, as in any mystery story, quick assumptions are often wrong assumptions. The patient reader is eventually rewarded with the truth… R~13_**

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_Sentinel103 2/24/12 . chapter 31_

A beacon? Hummm now why would a modulator chip begin to beacon? Sorry I thought I'd leave the comments on the other stuff to the other readers...I mean it's obvious who the ventilated Kim was. And what the squeashed Kim was.

Back to the beacon, you know beacon means send (I'm a HAM radio operator and I have one!) So how did that thing start sending? And why? Did it malfunction? Was it part of Mastermind's strategy...nah too many things have been gone against her...blue boy, he figured it out and is sending the brainwashed Kim's location. But how did he know where to send it?

Oh well I guess you'll tell us all later.

Larry (Sentinel 103)

**_Hmmmm…the second half of the last sentence reads: "…blinked on and off, like a tiny beacon." Emphasis on "like." Working in Television and AM and FM radio (not HAM) for 30 some-odd years, my daily association with beacons is with the blinking lights on the broadcast towers—designed to warn aircraft but not actually involved in the transmission process. In any event, no broadcast function was intended in the description. R~13_**

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_CajunBear73 2/25/12 . chapter 31_

Quite the drama, soap opera, urban combat or otherwise, at Ron's place.

But ya know, that place was used by so many folks in this tale that there seems to be a revolving door for who goes in and out again.

CB73

**_Too true, _****CB73****_: several chapters could have been written here, exploring the interesting conversations taking place around the suite. But my readers chafe for more momentum. And since there aren't more reviews at this point… R~13_**

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_Some Dude 8/26/13 . chapter 31_

I FREAKING KNEW IT!

**_Maybe this time...but watch as I move the three shells around again...round and round...now tell me which shell is the real Kim Possible under? LOL R~13_**

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_BartWLewis chapter 31 . 7/16/14_

So that one Chamille girl and a Synro-Kim were after Ron at the same time...that is interesting.

_**Interesting for you, maybe; I'm sure Ron would have a different word for it! (LOL) R~13**_

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_G. Login chapter 31 . 7/17/14_

The bit with Bonnie when she was kind to Ron and then she was upset now everyone knew of her deed I thought of Matthew 6. That was great that Tara knew the quote and and even though Bonnie didn't know it all from memory she was living it out.

_**Bonnie doesn't strike me as being a "chapter and verse" girl and, if she was, her Jewish heritage might make her a little short when it comes to the New Testament. Tara, on the other hand, seems totally believable as the one most likely to know her Bible (without being an uptight prude, that is). Bonnie may be rude, sarcastic, and even selfish but that doesn't mean that she's totally evil or incapable of doing the right thing. High school is a bubble and, once most people get out of it, they start to really grow up. Maybe Bonnie's on the road to redemption... R~13**_


	32. One Mom, Two Mom, Red Mom, Blue Mom

**Required Disclaimer:** _This is not the HBO reboot of the _**Kim Possible: Sitch in the Blood**_ series. It is only fan fiction and does not represent any proprietary rights or profitable arrangements._

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Two – One Mom, Two Mom; Red Mom, Blue Mom**

She was exhausted.

Physically, mentally, emotionally…

Kim's disappearance for the better part of a year…the loss of intimacy with a strained marriage…the physical assault and the loss of her family…the nerve damage to her hand that pretty much guaranteed that her career as a surgeon was over…

The one bright spot in her increasingly grey and meaningless world was Kim's return.

Only…she was gone again…

And they were telling her that it never really was Kim.

_Her_ Kim was _still_ missing.

That a stranger with Kim's face had moved into her home…had held her hand while they buried her sons and husband…had murdered those that Global Justice agent—and maybe the other, as well. And had tried to murder Ron Stoppable—dear, sweet, Ronald—and had shot Wade and Monique and some other woman…

It was a nightmare that she couldn't seem to wake up from!

And her eyes were growing heavy, again.

She couldn't remember the last decent night's sleep that she'd had—even though Dr. Morgan had given her a prescription for sleeping pills and she was popping pain pills that the hospital had prescribed for her hand—the blue pills for the muscle damage, the yellow for the injured nerves.

And now she remembered that Kim had come into her room after she had crawled into bed. Had given her more pills and a glass of water to wash them down. Antibiotics, she had said. Only they weren't the antibiotics the hospital had provided. And the water had tasted funny. Sort of…mediciny…

She yawned, wanting very much to lie down now that the adrenaline had run its course.

The yawn did not go unnoticed.

"You want me to take Dr. Possible back home, Betts?"

"No." Betty and Anne gave the same answer at the same time.

"Given this evening's events, I don't think that that would be a…restful…option. For her or the rest of us. "I'll arrange for a Global Justice safe house—"

"No," Anne repeated, dully. "I'll just get a room for the night, here…"

"I think it's best if we arrange for a more secure location."

"She'll sleep here tonight," said a new voice.

All three women turned to look at Ron—though it took Anne a little longer to find him and focus on his face.

Ron Stoppable was sitting on the other end of the bed, across from Anne, and bouncing little Hana on his knee. A pair of butterfly stitches adorned his left cheek where the bullet had grazed him and a bandage covered his right ear where the synthodrone had tried to stomp his face. He was smiling as he made little faces at his tiny stepsister. "She'll sleep here. Tonight. Tomorrow. As long as she needs to. And she'll be _safe_."

"Ronald! Two…" Dr. Director had to carefully choose her words in front of Kim's mother, "…people…who were not who they seemed…were able to infiltrate your bedroom and…um…put their hands on you without—"

Ron shook his head. "Yeah. I know. But we weren't expecting an attack. _I_ wasn't expecting an attack. _I_ won't make that mistake again. I doubt that you will either. Even without my—uh—"

"Mystical Monkey Powers?" Betty offered with an arched eyebrow.

"—uh—yeah. How'd you know about—?"

"I have my sources," Betty said enigmatically, trying to not glance at Yoshi in the process.

"Yeah. Well. Even without that," Ron continued, "I'm not exactly helpless. And the ladies will stand watch."

"Ladies?" Shego asked.

Ron raised his voice a little: "Ladies?" he called.

Bebe, Cece, and Dede were suddenly in the room.

"We are here, Ron Stoppable," the African American bot said.

"How may we serve? the blonde asked.

"Would you like a massage?" the brunette inquired.

"Ladies, please tell Dr. Director that the premises are now secure as we discussed just twenty minutes ago."

And they did.

In detail.

Until Betty held up her hands in surrender.

"And I'll be here to upgrade their programming and make some additional adjustments to their threat response systems," Dr. Porter said from the doorway. I noticed the suite has two unused guest bedrooms so, if Ron has no objections, I thought I could hang around and help out."

"You're more than welcome, Vivian," Ron said, handing Hana off to Yoshi. "If there's anything that you need, just call room service and put it on my tab."

"Thank you, Ronnie, but I can just send one of the B-bots to my place and they'll be back in no time."

Shego cleared her throat. "As long as there're extra beds I can amp up the security another notch."

Ron nodded. "Someone will have to double up." He gave Vivian a meaningful look and nodded toward Anne.

"Oh, ah, Dr. Possible and I can bunk together. All right with you, Anne?"

"Long as you don't snore…" she replied with a half smile and half closed eyes.

Shego and Dr. Porter exchanged glances.

"Let's get you to bed," Shego said as they each took one of the dazed woman's arms.

"Is there anything you need?" Vivian asked.

"Something to sleep in…"

"Ron, we're going to need one of your tee shirts…"

**RSVP**

Out in the main room the guests had all departed, save for Bonnie and Tara who were cleaning up.

Dr. Director had just departed, Yoshi and Hana were back in their bedroom, Shego and Vivian were getting Anne settled, and Ron walked over to one of the sofas and plopped down with a sigh. "Thanks, guys, but housekeeping can take care of all of that in the morning."

"Allow me," Bebe said, easing Tara aside and taking over the dish washing.

Dede became a blur, zipping around the room, cleaning up and tidying.

Cece was off on errands.

Tara and Bonnie joined Ron on the couch as Dede slid a hassock under his feet.

"I'm so sorry your _seudat havra'a_ was ruined," Bonnie whispered.

He reached over and patted her hand. "It was wonderful, Bonnie. Thank you so much. I can't begin to tell you how much it meant to me."

"But…but…it was ruined. And now…when you're in _aninut_…"

"Oh," he said, "I think I just graduated from the first stage of mourning and I'm working through _avelut_ pretty quickly."

Tara laid her head on his shoulder. "Ron, I'm not Jewish so I don't know what all of that means but it sounds like you're supposed to take time to mourn. Hurrying through the process doesn't seem like a good idea."

"Ladies, the Ron-man never hurries about anything…" His response evoked a pair of cautious smiles. "…and I won't be hurrying this, either," he said more softly. "I'll mourn my parents for the rest of my life, just as I am Yori. But my first priority is to not mourn anyone _else_, if I can help it. That means the living take precedence over the dead and I have to start thinking about that right now. I'll honor the traditions as best I can but I will not let ritual compromise the things I must do to protect my friends."

Bonnie laid her head on his other shoulder. "Does this mean that you won't be sitting _shivah_ for seven days?"

Ron considered the viciousness of the attacks against his friends and family. "Not so much sitting _shivah_ as _becoming_ _Shiva_…" he murmured.

Tara pulled her head back. She stared at him with worried eyes. "Are you quoting Oppenheimer?" she whispered.

Ron turned his head and met her eyes solemnly. "Robert Oppenheimer was quoting the _Bhagavad-Gita_. 'Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.'"

"What's that?" Bonnie asked.

"Shiva," Dede answered. "Sanskrit for 'Auspicious One. Shiva is one of the most complex gods of Hinduism, embodying seemingly contradictory qualities. He is the destroyer and the restorer, the great ascetic and the symbol of sensuality, the benevolent herdsman of souls and the wrathful avenger."

"Yeah, that's me," Ron murmured, his eyes shimmering a pale blue. "I'm starting to feel a little wrathful…"

**RSVP**

It had been a pleasant dream until the street maintenance crew had arrived.

The minister was just saying: "I now pronounce you Drs. and Mr. and Mrs. Drew and Anne Lipsky…" when the jackhammer started up.

_Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-a-tat-tat-tat…_

The dream exploded into nothingness but the noise did not fade away. If anything, it grew louder, more real and insistent.

The staccato of tapping drove into his head as if there was a tiny, annoying jackhammer working on his skull instead the street outside.

Drakken pulled his pillow over his head and tried to ignore the insistent racket but…

It.

Would

Not.

Stop!

What _was_ that? Morse code from some antiquated piece of equipment in the basement? Distorted telemetry from some killer satellite he'd forgotten about? What? He was tired and didn't want to get up and waste an hour search all over the house for something that could very well wait until morning.

The pounding continued. And now there was another muffled sound.

He couldn't make it out through the pillow so he cautiously pulled it away from his face and tried to decipher the new sounds behind the sharp rat-a-tat-tat that was beginning to cause petechial hemorrhages on the back of his eyeballs.

The muffled sounds were…a voice!

And now he could make out the words!

"Drew Lipsky! I know you're in there! You let me in right now! Bad enough you don't come and pick me up from the airport and I have to take a cab! But you open this door right now, young man!"

_Oh good heavens! _

"What is taking so long? Do you have a girl in there? Is it that Shego person?"

_It was his mother!_

**RSVP**

She was in a long, dark tunnel…running…trying to catch up to her family…

But they were moving too fast for her. Accelerating away at impossible speeds.

And Kim…

…was starting to fade.

She had lost the others—they were gone, now.

But Kim couldn't—shouldn't—_mustn't_ fade.

Her daughter had to return!

The world needed her!

And _Ron_ needed her!

She could see past the young man's new-found confidence and into the lonely cast to his eyes. He said that he didn't remember Kim but that was because she had faded away this past year.

Dr. Anne Possible was done.

As a crippled surgeon. As a widowed wife. As a mother…

...except for one last act!

She would find Kim Possible and bring her back.

Even if she had to go down into the grave, face Death, himself, and trade her own soul for her daughter's so that she could die and Kim Possible might live once more…

**RSVP**

"So your cousin Eddie didn't give you my message?"

"No, Mother," Drakken groaned, as he carried Mrs. Lipsky's luggage in from the curb.

"Well, honestly! No wonder that boy is always in trouble. I hate to tell my sister, but I'm reaching the point where I don't think he'll ever make anything of himself." The diminutive woman with the collapsed beehive hairdo marched into the guestroom and plopped herself down on the spare bed.

Dr. Drakken set the stack of suitcases carefully down and then collapsed onto the floor. "To…what…" he wheezed, "do I owe…the pleasure…of…this visit?"

"Oh, Drewbie," she crooned, "Mama has something very important to discuss with you and it's the sort of thing that one doesn't do by phone—even those fancy cordless ones that everyone's talking about these days."

_I wonder what—_

And then Drakken's brain latched onto a horrific series of images. Images tied to one of his nastier exchanges with Professor Dementor a couple of years back when he had teased Drakken with the awful thought of becoming the blue scientist's step-father.

But he was only teasing! Right?

_RIGHT?_

"Mother? You're not here to tell me…"

She arched an eyebrow.

"…to tell me…"

"Tell you what, Drew?"

"That you're…you're…"

"Ohhh, my baby boy is too _tired_ to talk tonight! We'll talk about it in the morning after a good night's sleep! Now come over here and kiss your mother goodnight and go back to bed!"

Drakken complied but he knew for a certainty that there was going to be no good night's sleep on his end tonight.

**RSVP**

The odd-looking man wearing surgical scrubs limped into the ICU around two a.m.

He favored a fancy walking stick and walked up to the nurses' station a bit hunched over. "I'm Dr. Gregory Home. I assume they called ahead to inform you?"

The night nurse smiled. "Yes, Doctor. They said to expect a specialist consult—though we were expecting you later this morning."

He cocked his head and smiled but, for some reason, the nurse thought he suddenly resembled a stooped bird of prey. "A collapsed lung is serious enough that I don't like to wait."

"Of course, Doctor. But the preliminary surgery was successful: Ms. Leon's lung is re-inflated and her vitals are stable."

"I'm sure the surgeon on call did a fine job. I'm just a bit of a…_night owl_…and thought I would pop in for an early follow up."

"Yes, Dr. Home. She's down at the end in C-8."

The man claiming to be Dr. Home thanked the nurse and hobbled on down the glassed-in cubicle where Camille Leon was still fighting for her life.

First, he examined the telemetry equipment recording the patient's pulse, respiration, blood pressure, and brainwave activity. Locating the USB port, he plugged in a thumb drive and then turned to his recent colleague in crime.

"Well, my dear," he said softly, peeling back an eyelid to examine her pupil, "you've been a very naughty girl. First, you decide to have unauthorized contact with Mr. Stoppable. Then you go and get yourself shot, revealing your identity and depriving Mastermind of your unique talents in the execution of his master plan. Fortunately, those talents are not totally yet lost to us…" He touched the jeweled head of his walking stick to her arm. "Unfortunately, without your talents, you are of no use to us and therefore a liability."

Right on cue the phone rang at the night nurses' desk.

"Hello? What? Code blue? But I'm on duty. I can't—yes Doctor. No Doctor. Intern? Well, this is highly irregular! I—but—"

An intern looking suspiciously like Edward Lipsky with a severe haircut burst through the doors. "I'm here, babe! I'll watch the patients while you go fix that heart attack thingy!"

"This goes against all hospital protocols!" she huffed as she came around from behind the desk.

"Yeah…well…you better run: the doctors want you at the other end of the hospital! Seriously!"

"I'll stay until you get back, Nurse," Dr. Home called.

"All right. Thank you, Doctor!" She exited the ICU at a run.

Motor Ed grabbed a gurney and steered it down to the cubicle where Dr. Home was holding a pillow over the slight woman's face.

"Dude! Seriously! This is so—"

"Wrong?" The 'doctor" looked up at the hulking thief with haunted eyes. "I don't know what Mastermind has on you but I have to do what he says or he'll kill my beloved Condor!

Ed tried to not look at the twitching arms of Camille Leon as his partner pressed down on the pillow. "Dude, you do _not_ want to know. Because, if I told you, then _I'd_ have to kill you. Seriously!" He looked over at the monitors. "Hey, her heartbeat's normal."

"Thumb drive with a virus program," the fake doctor grunted as his victim's resistance began to fade. "It overrides the actual readings and substitutes a false recording on a loop. It blocks any actual alarms and no one will probably notice until the next shift change. There's another in my pocket. Why don't you take it and go find that Load kid so we can speed things up?"

"Uh, okay." He stepped forward to get the second thumb drive. "But I'm just here to assist, ya know? If we can't move the kid and have to waste him, then you have to do it. I ain't no killer! Seriously!"

"Sure, Lipsky. That's what _I_ said until Mastermind got his hooks in me. In the end, you'll do what you're told or the people you love will pay the price."

Ed shuddered. "Oh, I know. Far better than you, in fact."

**RSVP**

Vivian watched Dr. Possible as she tossed and turned as if in the grip of some colossal nightmare. Dream-states and hypnogogic phenomena were not her area of expertise so she hesitated to wake the restless redhead. She was about to go wake Shego when Anne suddenly sat straight up in bed."

"Are you all right?" the roboticist asked the widow of her former co-worker.

"I—guess I'm having a little trouble sleeping," Anne admitted slowly. "I think I'll get a drink of water and maybe read a little before coming back to bed."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Thanks, Dr. Porter, but a little stretch and some quietude and then I'll climb back into bed. I'll try to not wake you." Dr. Possible got up and pulled the hem of Ron's tee down so that she was decent to mid-thigh.

Out in the common area, she ran into Bebe and Dede who were standing watch over the entire suite.

"Dr. Possible, how may we be of assistance?" Bebe asked.

She was momentarily taken aback. "Uh. Please don't call me 'doctor.' I'm afraid that I can't rightly claim that title as of now…"

"Is there something that we can do for you, Ms. Possible?" Dede asked.

"Well, there are some things that I need from my house—clothes and such. Pajamas…"

"I can fetch them for you," Bebe said. "If you will make a list with notes as to where they can be found."

Dede handed her a pad and pencil.

"Very well. A few things for the next day or so…" Anne sat on the arm of one of the sofas and began to write.

**RSVP**

Motor Ed Lipsky fumbled the thumb drive into the USB port on the life monitoring equipment in Wade Load's ICU cubicle.

_This wasn't what he'd signed up for._

Come to think of it, he hadn't signed up, at all. He was a thief. A thief who specialized in hot rides. Not some grand, multi-part, multi-level scheme to rule the world. That was his cousin's gig. How come Blue Boy wasn't the one running around the hospital, doing technical stuff and getting his ridiculously tiny hands dirty? All that Motor Ed wanted was the freedom of the open road, a hot set of wheels, and a major babe riding shotgun beside him.

He thought of Shego, then, wearing a flannel shirt knotted beneath her serious rack and that fine, fine, lemon-lime ass packed solid into a pair of stone-washed Daisy Dukes. Oh yeah! He paused and played a little air guitar as the sudden image flitted through his memory and fluttered a little lower in his anatomy.

But his cuz and Shego-babe were supposedly batting for the other side these days—which made his assignment all more reprehensible to him. It wasn't fair! He ran his hand over the short locks of his newly-emerging hair and cringed. The only thing that made any of this bearable was Au-Mastermind's promise that—once Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable were out of the way for good and Global Justice was brought down with them—Shego would be his to do with as he pleased.

And the moodulator chip that Mastermind had promised in the bargain, would guarantee that she would please him in all manner of ways he could think of…

He turned back toward the bed with the Load kid just as Aviarius joined him.

"Man," he said, "this assignment's givin' me the major willies!"

"What's the matter, now?" the hunched man asked wearily.

"I'm startin' ta hallucinate! Seriously! It looks like there's a bunch a little eyes under the kid's hospital bed!" Ed took a nervous step back. "And now it looks like there's a monkey crouching on the foot of his bed!"

"There _is_ a monkey crouching on the foot of his bed," the other man said, taking a step back to match Ed's. "But that's not the worst part…"

"I know," Ed moaned. "The monkey's wearing a little ninja outfit! Seriously! That ain't right!"

In fact, all of the monkeys in Wade's room—a good dozen or so—were wearing ninja outfits. And now the rest came boiling out from under the bed.

The screams of the two men as they fled were largely drowned out by the screeching of guardian ninja monkeys, who were there at Ron's request to see that no harm came to their master's friends.

Three floors up, Cece looked up from her watch over Monique and her artificial (but very real looking) lips curved in a slight smile.

**RSVP**

Anne Possible slipped into the bathroom and took a quick, hot shower to sluice off the clammy sheen of night sweats and relax her weary muscles.

Stepping back out of the shower enclosure and toweling off, she considered putting the slightly damp tee shirt back on but decided against it. She was overheated all the way down to her core and her skin seemed to burn at her own touch.

She walked out of the bathroom and across the main room wearing only her skin with only Dede to see her. She opened a sliding glass door and stepped out onto the balcony.

The night breeze was brisk and cold, though she did not feel it as she gazed down at the street, forty floors below. A strange succession of thoughts flickered through her mind and somewhere, off in the distant corner of her mind, she realized that the cocktail of tranquilizers and pain killers and whatever the synthodrone had dosed her with was impacting her brain chemistry in a very odd way.

But that thought was too distant, too isolated, to do anything about it.

Just as that other tiny thought, in another corner of her mind, was helpless to do anything more than whisper about how fine it would be to climb over that railing and go flying tonight.

No.

She…knew who she was.

She knew what she had to do.

But first, a good night's sleep.

And warmth!

God, it was freezing out here!

She walked back into the common room and slid the door shut behind her.

Then she walked over to the bedroom door and slipped inside so as not to wake her bedmate.

She slid under the covers with only a whisper of sound and turned on her side, moving away from the edge of the mattress and easing toward the middle.

The blanket helped but she was still cold so she snuggled against her bed partner enjoying the warmth radiating against her goose-pimpled flesh.

"Oh, Ronnie," she sighed against the back of his head, "you feel so nice…"

* * *

**ABOUT THE TITLE: A little Dr. Seuss for this chapter: Red Mom being Anne and Blue Mom being Drewbie's mother. I trust I don't have to explain the color coding system…**

* * *

**Author's/Notes****_: _**

**_Well, I almost did it. I almost rushed the unmasking of Mastermind. But then I got all Robert Frosty and remembered I've got miles to go before I sleep…_**

**_Which brings me to another question for you, dear readers._**

**_We are approaching a major turn of events in the story within a few chapters. (At least I hope it's a few!) Should I continue on under the RSVP file? Or should I write to a "coda" and then continue on with the next phase of the story under a new file and title like "RSVP Part Two: The Rise of the Plot Bunny" or some sort? I can see pros and cons either way and I thought I might pick your more experienced brains for advice._**

**_And, finally, congrats to _****Serelay****_ for coming up with the best answer under deadline to the question I posed back at the end of Chapter 25. Look for his cameo just ahead. _**

* * *

**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 32**

_EnterpriseCV-6 8/23/11 . chapter 32_

Waiting for this chapter man can't wait for 33

**_Neither can I! R~13_**

* * *

_Pavelius 8/26/11 . chapter 32_

Puh...

After re-reading the whole damn thing (4 days of "work") i am inclined to say... the additions to the earlier chapters are good and are helping to understand whats going on in the story... so you did a really good job here...

Anyway, after progressing so far, i am curious what will happen now... Mastermind still out there, Justine Flanner, the Tweebs as Wildcard and Kim as Mindzombie somewhere hidden... quite the plot you build there...

For shippings, i am tending towards Harem, the spiritual Rufus has mentioned something like that .. "practise your love mastery" or so...

Keep it up and thanks for the revision

Pavel

**_Four days of reading? No wonder it took so long on my end: I thought a week or so and I would be caught up to here, but noooooooo! R~13_**

* * *

_Sentinel103 2/25/12 . chapter 32_

CW? errr Morse Code for you non HAMs or non class A radio licensees is going through Drew's brain...are you sure Rippy that beacon thingie doesn't transmit?

So did they off Camille? It sure sounds like it. It also sounds like little Ronnie has more friends floating around than everyone has given him credit for.

And Anne almost gave in to the drugs.

I'll keep the rest to myself for now.

Larry (Sentinel 103)

**_Alas, no, regarding the "transmit" feature. But if you'd raised that question about the moodulator chip sending the last time around you probably would have hit me with a compelling plot bunny and changed a little of what was to come in the next few chapters. Still, I'll file it away for future reference: there are other moodulator chips out there—especially those unpredictable black market knock-offs, so who knows… R~13_**

* * *

_Some Dude 8/26/13 . chapter 32_

So did Anne finally snap and go after Ron?

**_Anything is possible for a Possible... R~13_**

* * *

_sakura89luis chapter 32 . 7/17/14_

Anne and ron need some love, seriously, alot of shit has happen to them or atleast a hint of romance.

_**Well, I won't argue that Anne and Ron deserve some love. But do you think they should find it with each other? Let's ask Ron...in the next chapter. R~13**_


	33. Something Old, Something New

**Required Disclaimer:** _RSVP does not exist in this universe. In this time/space continuum, Kim Possible is the sole property of DisneyCo, all rights reserved. RSVP only exists in an alternate FanFiction dimension—and even there the author has no legal rights nor receives any remuneration for said story._

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Three – Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed, Something You?**

For a few moments he was back in his own home, in his own bed, with his loving and affectionate—make that _very_ affectionate—wife.

Life was good.

Slowly, however, the goodness sloughed away like layers of dead, rotting skin as he began to remember…

_The earthquake…_

_The tsunami…_

_Yori's death…_

_And all of the awfulness that had followed…_

But even with his wife dead and gone, she continued to embrace him lovingly.

He opened his eyes and looked down at the arm that encircled his torso: pale with just the vaguest hint of faded freckles.

The arm was very solid and, more importantly, _warm._

Not at all dead, but very much alive.

As were the breasts that were mashed up against his shoulder blades and the soft breath tickling the nape of his neck.

But who…?

And…asleep or awake?

"Um, good morning?" he said softly.

The only response he got was a sigh as his mysterious bed partner snuggled a little closer.

_Shego?_ He couldn't imagine anyone else having the chutzpah…and she had been rather flirty of late…

He opened his mouth to say her name and then reconsidered. Perhaps his personal experience with multiple partners was somewhat limited—well, pretty much restricted to one woman, so far. But he had seen enough chic flicks to know what happened to guys who blurted out the wrong name while in intimate situations.

No point in taking chances.

Especially when the last time he'd been this close to a naked woman—in this room, in point of fact—he'd had to fight for his very life.

And there was no question that it _was_ a woman pressed up against him as he had retired shirtless and, from the feel of things, so had she.

Very carefully, very slowly, he began to turn over so as not to disturb his unknown companion.

**RSVP**

Sleep was a long time coming and, when it finally did. It was anything but restful.

There were giants towering above him and they battled each other without regard for the puny tiny thing that he was.

Voices screeched and bellowed, objects were hurled and shattered. He cowered under a titan-sized table while his name was invoked and used by the giants to batter each other to a bitter draw.

Finally there came a day when the fighting stopped. Stopped because one of the giants surrendered to the other. Surrendered, but wouldn't submit.

The giant went upstairs and packed a suitcase. When he came back down, the giant opened the door and motioned for him to come outside.

The giant crouched on the porch steps before him like a battle-weary gargoyle. "Son," he said softly, "I can't stay here any longer. I wish I could, for you. I wish I could take you with me. But the courts don't understand how batshit crazy your mother really is and I can't live another day under this roof with her."

"If you won't take me with you, can I come see you?"

"I don't want your mama to know where I am or how to find me. To tell the truth, I'm a little afraid of her…" He put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Oh, you needn't worry about your own safety—she thinks you can do no wrong! You're the apple of her eye, Drew. She would do anything for you. Anything!"

_Except get along with my father_, a very young Drew Lipsky thought as he watched his old man turn and walk down the sidewalk to the waiting cab.

Fast forward and—surprise—the courts and family services actually do come to understand that dear old Mom _is_ batshit crazy. Too bad they couldn't have figured it out a little sooner—before Dad disappeared and he's bounced around a series of foster homes and youth programs. He's an emancipated "adult" when the state finally informs him that his mother has been declared nominally sane and will be coming to stay with him while she completes her "reintegration" into society.

Just one thing: try to not do or say anything that might confuse or upset her during her first few months back outside in the "real" world.

So, for the better part of a year they share an apartment. Conversation is difficult. She doesn't mention her time in the room with the rubber wallpaper and he doesn't discuss his day job as a mad scientist and criminal mastermind.

The question as to why his skin is now blue never seems to come up.

When she finally goes to live with her sister, it's a huge relief. Except for the occasional visits, he can move back into a lair and stop pretending to be a radio talk-show psychologist.

Waking after a restless night of dream trips down memory lane, he reflects on the thought that he doesn't have to (hardly) pretend anything anymore. He actually lives in a (rental) house now and has a legitimate career doing government work. Better: he's a bona fide hero.

If that wouldn't make a mother proud, what could?

**RSVP**

Shego was in the shower when she heard the high-pitched scream. She came barreling out of the guest bathroom sans towel, her body ablaze like St. Elmo's fire leaving her instantly dry and ready for battle.

As she emerged into the common room, Vivian and Yoshi burst out of their respective bedrooms in equal states of _dishabille_.

The Asian woman was clutching a silk robe in her hand as if she had just removed it. The blonde was only clad in a pair of French-cut panties but practically overdressed in comparison to the other two.

Dede, emerging from her station in the elevator, and Bebe, from the kitchen, took in the apparent dress code for the morning's activities and promptly nano-morphed their polymer garments into mere wisps of transparent lingerie based on their latest data downloads from the Victoria's Secret website. These left vast amounts of synthoflesh uncovered and demonstrated that the phrase "anatomically correct" could be a testament to both cutting edge science and high art.

As women—human and humanoid—looked wildly about, Ron Stoppable burst out of his own bedroom, looking a little wild-eyed, himself.

"Omygod, she's naked!" he was saying to himself. And then he stopped and looked at his new-found audience who gaped back at him.

"Oh my god! You're _naked!_" he exclaimed, looking at Shego. He looked away only to discover that he was surrounded by arresting landscapes. "And _you're_ naked. And you…and _you_…and naked, naked, _naked!_ Why is _everybody_ naked?" He looked down to reassure himself that he, at least, was modestly wearing boxers.

The door behind him opened a bit wider revealing a naked Anne Possible. "Ronnie, where are you going?"

To his credit, Ron only shrieked a little this time.

**RSVP**

"I made breakfast!" she announced as he staggered into the kitchen. Her high pitched voice was like a dentist's drill in his sleep numbed brain. "I made your favorite!"

He repressed a shudder: he had no "favorites" when it came to his mother's cooking. It was all equally bad. No, that wasn't quite true…it seemed like there might have been one or two dishes that were merely tasteless—at least in comparison to the vile excrescences that usually emerged from her pots and pans.

"Happy face pancakes!" she elaborated, unveiling her latest creations with a flourish. A plate was thumped down in front of him with blackened circles—well raggedy ellipsoids, actually—of lumpy dough in a precarious stack that was topped by gumdrop eyes and a nose arranged over a licorice stick mouth. He knew that he didn't have any syrup in the larder so he finally decided that the sticky goo that was drizzled over the whole unappetizing concoction was the last of his honey.

His stomach made a gurgling sound as it tried to flee his esophagus and crawl into his large intestine to hide.

"I knew my Drewbie would be hungry when he woke up and I didn't want him to be distracted for our little talk!"

"Talk, Mother? If you want my full attention then maybe we should postpone breakfast till later."

"Eat it!" she commanded in that voice that brought together such disparate images as fingernails and chalk boards.

Trembling a little, he picked up his knife and fork and did as he was told. After a few bites the old habits came back and he was able to successfully suppress his gag reflex.

**RSVP**

"I don't understand why none of my clothes fit," Anne Possible groused as she tried to pull Kim's cargos up over her hips. "Did you bring everything from the closet and drawers in my room?"

"Yes ma'am," Cece answered dutifully. "And I brought you clothing from the master bedroom as well. My scans indicate that those articles of clothing would fit you perfectly."

"Ewww: _old lady_ clothes. They look life stuff that my mother would wear!"

"Bebe…" Ron motioned the B-bot over to where he was standing next to Dr. Director and Dr. Serelay. "Here's my credit card. Can you go shopping and match Kim's clothing to sizes that Dr. Possible can wear?"

"I calculate a seventy-two per cent success rate," the black girl answered.

"Do the best you can," he said. "Too bad Monique is laid up; she could make this a lot easier." He turned to Betty. "I need to go to the hospital as soon as we're done here. I want to check on Mon and Wade."

Dr. Director nodded. "Of course. But I want a security detail with you when you go out. There was another incident, last night…"

Ron's face turned grim. "I know. I wasn't thinking. I had my friends covered but I wasn't thinking about Camille Leon."

"You can't think of everything, Ronald; we certainly didn't."

"Well, I'm going to have to step up my game. Whoever's behind this has been at least three steps ahead of us all the way. I appreciate any help you're willing to give me, Doc; but I'm going to build my own security system and run both passive and active operations as soon as possible. You don't need to be diverting precious resources for a civilian when you've got bigger fish to fry."

"Well, you're an asset, Ron…" the older woman laid a hand on his arm. "You're very important to me."

"_You_, Doc?"

"Global Justice," she quickly amended. "But, yes, to me personally, as well." Her hand came up to his cheek. "I…worry…about you, Ron…"

His solemn face crinkled into a grin after a moment's pause. "Thanks, Liz. Hey, but you don't look like you've lost any sleep over me. Every time I see you, you look younger than ever!"

"Um, well, thank you, Ronald…" She felt herself blushing. "You know, I've always thought of age as being nothing more than a number—"

The elevator door dinged open and Jocelyn Possible rushed into the room. "I'm here! What do you need? Oh, hi Aunt A—umph!" Ron reached out with almost inhuman speed and snagged the young teen, clapping a hand over her mouth as he drew her into a hug.

"Not another word," he whispered in her ear, "until we talk. Or I talk and you listen. Okay?"

Joss had to remember to nod, distracted as she was by the warm embrace of her personal hero and, more recently, nocturnal obsession.

"Let's step into the bedroom," he continued, guiding her back into his quarters.

Her knees nearly buckled and she was close to swooning until he ruined it by adding, "Liz? Doctor? Will you join us for a moment?"

"What about me?" Anne asked.

"Uh, no. You just keep looking for something that's going to fit you," Ron answered as he closed the door on their private meeting.

**RSVP**

"Son," the odd little woman said as he tried to choke down a forkful of leathery flapjack, "I want to begin by telling you how proud I am of you!"

"Thanks, Ma," he mumbled as the honey and a gumdrop combined to form an organic superglue that bonded the Frankencake to the roof of his mouth.

"I know it hasn't been easy: your father abandoning us, my extended stays in the hospital to help the doctors with their very important research. But even my limited, solo opportunities to be a good parent have shaped you with untapped potentials. Potentials that you can finally tap and achieve. Drewbie, I want you to be all that you can be!"

His eyebrows went up. "You want me to join the Marines? Mother, I'm a little old—"

"That's not what I'm talking about!" she screeched at him. Composing herself, she continued. "I've always believed that you could do anything that you set your mind to—become a talk radio advice doctor…create amazing inventions…_rule_ the world…anything!"

"Well, I do dabble a little in the lab from time to time—but my work for Global Justice keeps me very busy!"

"They should be working for my son," Mrs. Lipsky snarled, "not the other way around!" And then she smiled sweetly.

"Well, that's not the way it works, Ma—"

"It should, son," she said, clapping him on the shoulders. This required pulling a stepstool over to her son's chair. "And I'm sure that it would be that way if you had been able to pursue your dreams unimpeded by certain…_obstacles_…that got in your way."

"Well, of course," Dr. Drakken—aka Drew Lipsky—replied, making a grand gesture with his fork. Any ordinary pancake would have gone flying across the room. This piece exited the tines of the fork by a good two inches before an elastic webbing of honey and dissolving gumdrops snapped it back like one of Spiderman's targets. "There are always obstacles on the road to suc—"

"I'm talking about _two_ very specific, very special obstacles, Drew. Of all of the difficulties in life that you've had to overcome, which _two_ have stymied you, time and time again? Over and over?"

The blue-skinned scientist smiled, clearly happy to have a reason to stop chewing. "Is this a quiz? Hmmm…two obstacles…again and again…stymie…oh! I know! Insufficient funding and an overabundance of regulations by the government!" He looked up at his mother hopefully.

She looked down at her son hopelessly.

**RSVP**

"Let's sit down over here," Ron told Joss, leading her to the bed and sitting. He patted the space next to him.

She sat happily, though she hoped Dr. Director and the bearded gentleman would depart soon.

"Joss," Ron began, patting her knee, "our two families have gone through a difficult year. And the last few days have been about the worst of it for just about everyone involved. Liz—Dr. Director has brought Dr. Serelay in to consult, as a result, and there are a couple of things that we think are important to share with you."

"Is—is it bad news? Is Aunt Anne all right? She seems kinda strange." Joss looked up at him. "You seem kinda different, as well."

"Why don't we let Dr. Serelay answer those questions," Dr. Director prompted.

"Well," the bearded man smiled and sat on the floor so that he could lean back against the dresser and look up at Joss and Ron. "When our bodies are injured, they sometimes experience a transitory state that we call shock. Dr. Director tells me that you're quite the little scrapper so you've probably had some bumps or bruises or falls that were serious enough to cause you some mild symptoms, at least."

"Sure," Joss answered. "I know what shock is. Sometimes ya git the wind knocked out of ya and it's like your lungs are paralyzed for a few minutes. Or ya get kicked by a horse and it don't even hurt at first but the next day—boy, howdy!"

The doctor nodded approvingly. "Sometimes you might be dizzy or a little disoriented and it takes you a while to get your bearings."

"Like when you get thrown off a horse!"

"An excellent analogy, young lady! And this is just a normal phase of the body's healing process. Shock often suppresses pain and awareness of the injury to allow the body to get clear of the danger and seek the opportunity for treatment or protection before it is incapacitated by pain and fear."

"Gosh, I never thought about it that way."

"Well," he continued, "the mind, just like the body, uses a similar process for its own safety. When our thoughts, our emotions, our very essence of 'self' is hurt or traumatized, our mind can protect itself by doing what the injured body does: go into a state of what the layman calls 'shock.' But the mind can choose many different ways to protect itself when it feels threatened or perceives injury."

"Like amnesia," Joss qualified.

Dr. Serelay looked up at Dr. Director. "She really is quite bright."

Betty smiled and shook her head. "You have no idea."

"Yeah," Ron volunteered, "the docs here were just telling me that I seem to have some kind of amnesia…"

The teen's eyes grew large. "Ya mean you don't know who you are?"

Ron laughed. "Oh no. I _know_ who _I_ am—that is, as much as anyone can really know who they are. Life is an unending journey down the road of self discovery. But I've got some kind of specialized amnesia." He turned to Serelay. "What kind did you say that it was?"

The psychiatrist scratched his head. "Well, this is a little tough to define by the textbooks. It appears to be a form of Dissociative amnesia although it resembles Lacunar amnesia in more specific ways—except Mr. Stoppable is not repressing memories of a place or event but, rather, a specific person."

"So," Joss said, "you remember who you are. You just fergot who someone else is?"

Ron nodded. "That's what they tell me."

"An'…an'…y'all called me over here because…it's _me?_"

Ron chuckled, shook his head and tousled her hair—the last giving her equal amounts of pain and pleasure. Pleasure because it was a form of physical intimacy, pain because it was totally devoid of any romantic interest.

"No. I remember _you_, Squirt. They tell me that it's your cousin."

"Mah cousin?"

"Joss," Dr. Director said gently, "Ron doesn't remember Kim Possible."

The teen's eyes grew so wide that she looked like an anime character

**RSVP**

"I want you to close your eyes," and imagine a perfect world—and your perfect life. Take a moment to imagine it…"

The first image of Drakken's perfect world to form behind his closed eyelids was a delicious breakfast. Any breakfast but pancakes. Any food that was not processed by his mother's hands.

To be fair, he was very tired. And very hungry—though his appetite continued to recede with every bite of the stacked abominations on his plate.

Then he thought of _her_.

But he did not want to think of _her_ in his mother's presence.

It would sully the memory…and possibly taint any future daydreams.

Turning aside from his newest dream of conquest, he found the old ones not too far beneath the surface: world domination, endless wealth, and submissive clones of Shego to serve him in a proper manner and with a more malleable attitude…

He smiled as he revisited the old day-dreams of his criminal past.

"Does my Drewbie see something he likes?"

His smile turned into a frown. Imagining a harem of scantily-clad Shegos was spoiled with the application of his mother's voice in his ear.

"My boy is such a smart, creative genius," she continued, "he should be able to make any or even all of his dreams come true!"

_Well, of course! Except for that pesky Kim Possible and her BF—Buffoon Forever—what was his name?_

"And I think it's very important not to give up on your dreams," she murmured in his other ear, now. "Especially when the impediments of the past disappear and the path to success is opened and clear."

It was almost as if she was talking about the Possible girl and that…boy…the boy…like she knew about his dreams of world domination and how Kim Possible always ruined them! Of course, she couldn't. And, anyway, nothing had changed anyway. Those two annoying brats had graduated from high school and were now working for Global Justice…except…except…

His smile returned.

They had disappeared!

Well, the Buffoon was back but—without the Possible girl—he was pretty much out of the game.

And she was missing for close to a year, now. If the death of her family hadn't brought her back, he could pretty much count on the world being ripe for the taking!

Unconsciously, he began to rub his tiny hands together.

His mother, seeing the gesture, smiled to herself. _My work here is done_, she thought. _For now_…

**RSVP**

"Your aunt is a much more complicated problem," Dr. Serelay was saying. "I'm uncomfortable making any kind of a real diagnosis at this point but Dr. Possible appears to be suffering from a psychological defense mechanism that we gather under the umbrella of Dissociative Identity Disorders."

"Isn't that like…Multiple Personality Disorders?" Joss asked.

The psychiatrist peered up at the teen as if she were a fascinating specimen in need of further study. "Without getting into the complexities of MPD being re-evaluated as DID, let's just say that your aunt is coping with the loss of her daughter by creating a new identity or personality for herself. This allows her to set aside her own burdens, fears, and regrets and enter into a mental and emotional time-out until these things are sorted out or resolved."

"Yer sayin' Aunt Anne isn't herself because she needs ta be somebody else for awhile until Kim comes back."

Serelay was taken aback. "Young lady! Have you ever considered getting your college degree in Psychology? I could help you with grants, maybe arrange a scholarship?"

Betty nudged him with her foot. "Focus, Doc. We need the kid to baby-sit and she needs to know just what she's in for."

"Oh, yes. Well. Your aunt seems to have created an alternate personality or identity where she has taken emotional refuge during this stormy period in her life. In something akin to what we might label as 'transference' she has assumed this—role, if you will—to not only escape her own grief and sense of helplessness, but to also restore that which has been lost from her life…as well as the rest of the world."

Joss looked from Dr. Serelay to Dr. Director to Ron and then back to Dr. Serelay who looked up at Dr. Director.

"Joss," Betty spoke again, "I've got good news and bad news. The bad news is…Dr. Anne Possible is gone…"

"Gone?"

"We don't know for how long. Dr. Serelay thinks that—if we handle this right—your aunt—Dr. Possible will return. Eventually."

Joss stood. "And that's the good news?"

There was a knock at the door and the subject of their conversation came into the room wearing a pair of black jeans that looked like they had been painted on. A safety pin helped the front closure give her the extra inch or so she needed to be able to breathe. The purple shirt had required some pre-stretching but she was wearing it—even though it afforded a six-inch high panoramic view of her stomach and her breasts were mashed against her chest.

"I—I can't believe you were able to squeeze into those," Betty stammered.

"Hey," the former neurosurgeon replied, standing with her fists on her hips, "I'm Kim Possible; I can do anything!"

* * *

**ABOUT THE TITLE: The old bridal superstition has been hijacked here to help reference that Anne Possible has borrowed her daughter's identity in an effort to "bring Kim Possible back."**

* * *

**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 33**

_EnterpriseCV-6 8/30/11 . chapter 33_

HOLY SHIT IT'S KIM I WAS WONDERING WHEN SHE WAS GOING TO BE BACK

**_Erm…actually, it's "AP" not "KP". Our Kimmie is still away from the main part of the action. For just a little bit longer… R~13_**

* * *

_Jimmy1201 8/31/11 . chapter 33_

I have been re-reading this since you started reworking the chapters and I must say that your story telling has really stepped up. Thanks for all your hard work.

**_You're very welcome. While I write for my readers in general, its my reviewers who really inspire me! So, thank you! R~13_**

* * *

_critic 8/31/11 . chapter 33_

Ok, MAD (DOG) PROPS for what I at first thought was a House cameo. Also hilarious chapter, love a good bit of insanity. I would also like to nominate "Insufficient funding and an overabundance of regulations by the government!" as one of the best lines in the story, had to stop reading and just giggle for 20 seconds after reading that.

**_Thanks! Drakken does have flashes of brilliance and his own twisty sense of humor—he just gets sidetracked by laziness and a lack of sustained focus. And, yes, it was (sort of) a Dr. Gregory House shout out even if it was Aviarius in disguise. You might have noticed that a couple of the other doctor cameos earlier in the story were named after TV docs… R~13_**

* * *

_Sentinel103 2/26/12 . chapter 33_

Oh man what a impending train wreck...Alll 'board!

OK this explains a lot about Moma Lipsky and her blue toned son. You know I don't think the shock treatments really worked on her did they? You know something in the 480 volt range with about thirty amps with leads on either side of the temple might be called for here.

And anyway I don't think you need any help with plot bunnies. I think yours are related to mine.

Scrolling down; Anne has become Kim. This living through your children might come back to bite them in the butt big time.

Now do I think you need a book 2? That's up to you...I know with 'TH' I am doing that because of several things, but it is mainly to move the course along without writing another 100K to get it where I want it. That way I can do it in a chapter and not bore everyone to death.

Larry (Sentinel 103)

**_Do you suppose that Howard Wolowitz's mother (The Big Bang Theory) might be the sister that Dr. Drakken's mother went to stay with for awhile?_**

**_;-) R~13_**

* * *

_CajunBear73 2/26/12 . chapter 33_

The votes are in and Mama Lipsky received, from her shrinks, the equivalent of Public Education's version of 'passing someone to another grade just to get them out of their classroom'... She's still batcrap crazy and has decided to help her son become what she now wants him to be...

But the lingerie show at Ron's place ended way too soon. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

So now there's two mom's with a few lights out running around? One I'm worried about, the other should put on a very good show for a while.

CB73

**_Yes, but which is which? (And don't worry about the lingerie thing…there will be other "moments") R~13_**

* * *

_Some Dude 8/26/13 . chapter 33_

Haha...I loved the ending to the chapter. :-)

**_Like mother, like daughter...or is that the other way around? R~13_**

* * *

_sakura89luis chapter 33 7/17/14_

well... we got what we wanted but with a twist. Briliant!

_**More like "twisted"! R~13**_

* * *

___BartWLewis chapter 33 . 7/17/14_

This is a whole lot of crazy, right here.

Ann thinks that she is Kim, and she even sneaks into Ron's room while she is naked sleeps with him.

Joss now knows about everything, and sems to be taking it quite well, but only time will tell.

Shego, Vivian, Ann and the Bebe are living with Ron along with that GJ agent and his wee sister.

_**Oh dear! If you think this is a whole lot of crazy, you have no idea of what's coming... R~13**_

* * *

_PyroNagus chapter 33 . 9/21/14_

If i was Drakken at the very moment his mother started talking about going back in the villainy biz I would back flip, grab a bun of bread as a weapon and opt a defensive samurai stance, saying "Mom? By any chance, are you a synthodrone or an evil minion of mastermind? Be honest I can take it." XD  
Hmmm... she did think "My work here is done..." and whatever suggesting that she's a real human and not a synthodrone...

_**Oh, she's real and Drakken's mother, all right.**_

Oooh Eddy, I know how hard it is let go of the mane *brushes his own freshly shaved hair*...*sob*... c'mere you big doof...*sob*...let me hug you...

So you had this 'ship' planned out from the beginning?! All these votes have been for nothing?!  
You slimy dirty little bag of weasels. *drops to his knees and looks up to you with hope and naivete* I wanna grow up to be just like you!

_**Well, I DID have the ship planned out at the beginning, but everybody seems to be pushing me in different directions. And I don't want to make anybody mad...**_

_**...do I?**_

_**R~13**_


	34. Feelings

**Required Disclaimer:** Do I really have to do this every chapter? Really? C'mon, you know the drill: Kim Possible…not mine…no rights…no money…just for fun…etc…

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Four: Feelings (woh woh woh, feelings…)**

Monique blinked her eyes until they focused. The medication dripping into her arm kept her relatively pain-free but sometimes made it hard to concentrate. As the image of her new visitor became less blurry, her eyes widened in surprise.

"Amelia?"

The tall brunette in the doorway took a step into the room. Instantly, the African-American woman who had been sitting by her bedside was out of her chair and standing between the patient and her latest visitor.

"It's all right, Cece," Monique said. "I know her."

The B-bot remained in place, blocking Amelia's path for an additional two seconds. "Scanning," she stated quietly. "Confirmed: subject Amelia is human. No weapons detected." She returned to her seat.

"No weapons," Amelia agreed with a smile, "just these." She set a vase of flowers on the nightstand beside Monique's hospital bed.

"Tell it to me straight, girl," Monique said, reaching out to grasp the tall brunette's arm. "Am I dying?"

Amelia smiled. "Not that I know of. Why do you ask?"

"Well, it's not like we actually know each other. So I'm asking myself, why would you bring me flowers?"

"Well, we were classmates, Monique…mind if I sit?"

Monique nodded and Cece vacated the chair to stand over by the door. "We were two years apart…" she said warily.

"True," her visitor admitted, "but Middleton alum, all the same. And I've been a customer."

"Club Banana," Monique said, nodding. "But not so much lately. I understand you've been getting some modeling gigs."

Amelia smiled. "Yes. So I don't do off-the-rack as much as I used to. I tend to go for personal design when I can. Which means I frequent the new talents, the hungry talents."

"The cheap talents," Monique clarified.

"I don't like 'cheap.' Let's say 'affordable'."

"And you heard about me?"

Amelia smiled and nodded. "Yeah. And I thought, girl's got skills, taste, talent—and she's one of my homies."

Monique scowled. "'Homies'? Really?"

"Okay. Alums. I remembered that you had personal style back when we were in high school. Figured I could trust you more than some stranger and that I could promote you if we were able to work something out."

Monique considered the offer. It wasn't like she could afford to be choosy. And, while she had never really been close to Amelia back when the older girl attended Middleton High, she'd had no reason to dislike or distrust her, either. It just seemed odd that the tall, tanned beauty had suddenly walked through the door of her hospital room with flowers after all this time. And with no prior relationship to base things on.

A thought occurred and Monique's eyes narrowed. "It's Ron, isn't it." Her inflection held no question.

Amelia was suddenly flustered. "Why—uh—oh—I don't—um—know what you mean…"

**RSVP**

Dede sat in the back, Ron rode shotgun, and Shego drove.

"I'm going to need a car," he said absently, staring out the passenger window at nothing in particular.

"You need a security detail for the time being and I don't mind chauffeuring," Shego said.

Ron nodded passively. "For now. But I'm going to need a vehicle eventually and what I'm going to want will take some time to fabricate."

Shego cocked her head as she thought out loud. "Speed, maneuverability, yet armored. On board weaponry and electronics…"

"I've already started a list. The problem is my tech guy is lying unconscious in the hospital with only a fifty-fifty chance of ever waking up again."

"Yeah, about that…what did you do when the doctor wasn't looking?"

"What do you mean?"

"You touched him."

"Yeah, so?"

"Well. It was more than that. You did something when you touched him."

Now he turned. Now she had his full attention. "And just what is it you think I did when I touched him?"

"I—I don't know. Healed him?"

Ron's face turned sour. "Did he look healed?"

"N—no. He was still unconscious when we left."

"So much for _that _theory." He turned his head away and looked back out the side window.

"You tried but it didn't work," she guessed.

"My initials are R.S., not J.C.," he snapped. "I just touched my friend and said a quick prayer for him. Okay?"

Shego hesitated but wouldn't let it go. "I felt something."

"What?"

"I felt something when you touched him. You were trying to do something!"

"You're imagining th—"

"I am _not_ imagining things!" She shook her head, knowing that this conversation could be taking a bad turn. She had to say it, anyway: "I can feel you."

"Yeah. And I can feel you. Maybe we should keep our hands to ourselves." He was grinning now but the smile did not touch his eyes.

"Stop it," she snapped. "Stop trying to divert me. I can _feel_ you, okay? Two mind-melds and whatever your monkey mojo did to me in the mix—I may not be able to read your mind outside of the meld but I can get a sense of what you're feeling from across the room. Maybe even farther. And I felt something go out of you and into the Load kid when you touched him."

The grin was gone and Ron stared straight ahead at the windshield. "Why do you call my MMP 'monkey mojo'?"

"Why do you think, Chosen One?"

His eyes grew wide.

"The same way you know about my giving people cancer. It's a two-way street inside the meld. A lot of things are obvious right away. Other things come into focus with time. I'm betting that you're starting to find out things about me that didn't jump right out at you inside of the meld."

Ron nodded slowly.

"And yet you _still_ trusted me to head up your security detail today…" she baited.

He bowed his head. "I trust you even more, now," he said softly.

The car was silent the rest of the way to their destination and Ron pretended to not notice when she swiped at a tear that rolled down her right cheek.

**RSVP**

Amelia's heart was racing along with her thoughts.

_Am I that obvious?_ she wondered. _What gave me away? How do I handle this? Deny! Deny deny deny!_

This was Karen's fault!

Her roommate turned Jedi-love-master had pushed her into phase three of her training to become the perfect girlfriend/object of desire in her quest for The Pink Sloth.

"Before you make the big move on the guy that you want," Karen had told her just last night, "you should get tight with his friends. If his friends approve of you then your job is a lot easier. If they don't like you, you're in for a long, bitter slog."

"But—but—this is an awful time, right now!" Amelia had wailed. "Two of his friends have just been sent to the hospital!"

"Amelia, you're not trying to get next to the guy, right now. You're trying to get next to his friends. You say two of them are in the hospital? Go see them! Take them flowers. Offer to run errands. Be a friend to his friends who need it the most!"

The brunette beauty had shuddered. "It just all feels so—"

"Cynical?" Karen supplied.

Amelia shook her head.

"Self serving?"

She shook her head again and finally said: "Icky!"

The girl in blue shook her head. "I know it feels like you're using them to get close to him—and you are. But you're also trying to make them feel better. And, if you succeed in becoming his girlfriend—and, someday, something more—they'll be your friends, too. I mean, everyone has to work at being friends with their best friend's other friends. Sometimes it's easy, sometimes it's hard. Once in awhile it's impossible…"

"Like Rockwaller?"

Karen nodded. "Precisely. But everyone does it. Everyone tries the best that they can. Because it comes with the territory. Like mothers-in-law and creepy, old bachelor uncles. Only you're being proactive, in this case. Instead of waiting until he's your boyfriend and then making nice with his friends, you're working to get ahead of the curve, here. Look, no one's asking you to suck up to Bonnie Rockwaller. But if his friends are people you wouldn't mind having as friends, yourself—why wait until later when a little effort now could be nice for everybody involved?"

Put that way, Amelia really did feel as if visiting Monique in the hospital and bringing her flowers was a kind and harmless gesture—even if her interest in Ron was what initiated the act.

Except that Monique had apparently seen through her plan. "It's Ron, isn't it," she bedridden girl accused.

As Amelia stammered and stuttered, Monique sharpened her accusation: "He put you up to this, didn't he?"

Now Amelia really was off-balance. "What?"

"He knows I need the money so he asked you to come here and give me his money on the pretense that you were looking to hire me!"

It took another moment for the tall girl to realize that Monique thought that Ron was using her to perform a secret kindness.

"Oh, Monique," Amelia clasped a hand to her impressive bosom, "I swear to you that this commission is my idea and not Ron's. He really doesn't know that I'm here or anything about what I'm trying to do!"

The black girl searched her face and found totally sincerity behind her words. "Well, alright then!"

And for the next hour or so the talk turned to fashion and boys and both girls discovered a mutual liking for one another.

**RSVP**

Dr. Director pulled on the latex glove and picked up the black market moodulator chip. She hadn't liked the Bortel originals and these illegal knockoffs might turn out to be even more unreliable. Global Justice had recovered a batch of the Henchco bargain basement items when they had busted a Hong Kong crime ring the previous month.

The chips had actually come in handy: more than one of their high risk detainees was now a model prisoner, thanks to the Psy-Ops Division and their idea to put "happy chips" on the most violent offenders in the GJ holding cells.

That was one thing, though; using one on Dr. Anne Possible to keep her manageable was quite another. Never mind what Dr. Serelay thought, it would be bad enough if all went well. But a few of the chips had proven to be flawed, producing unpredictable—and in a couple of cases, very unpleasant—results.

So, just in case, she dropped the chip in her pocket and pulled out her all-purpose GJ communicator. Selecting the settings that turned the hand-held device into a stun gun, she made sure the capacitors were fully charged before palming it and walking back into the bedroom.

"I still don't see why Ron was so spazzed out this morning," Anne was telling a wide-eyed Joss. "I mean, we've seen each other naked plenty of times."

"You _have_?" Joss was having enough trouble with the idea that her Aunt Anne was acting like she was Kim Possible. The "boyfriend" talk was just downright unnerving.

"Well…sure…" For a moment the older woman seemed a little uncertain as she worked through the logic: "All of the missions we've been on. We've had to change in and out of mission gear and wetsuits and often in cramped quarters—airplanes and trucks and all kinds of places where modesty can't be a consideration. And—" she raised her eyebrows suggestively, "—we _are_ girlfriend and boyfriend. In fact, we're practically engaged! After all of this time, you gotta expect that we've done a lot more than just _see_ each other naked. Facing life and death sitches every week, never knowing if our next mission is gonna be our last? How could anyone imagine that we wouldn't ha—?"

"That's not what Ki—er—_you_—told me the last time we talked about Ron!" Joss interrupted loudly.

"I didn't?"

"No! You told me that Ron was very modest and that you were saving yourselves for marriage!"

"I did?"

"In fact, you even said that you weren't going to have sex and would just adopt your kids, instead." As soon as she threw out that last sentence Joss could see that she had overplayed her hand.

Anne just giggled and licked her lips.

Anne's niece turned to look at Betty in the doorway. _Help me!_ her eyes said.

The director came into the room trying to circle to Anne's other side but make the move look casual as she did so.

"I probably was worried that you'd rat me out to my Mom," Anne told Joss. "But guess what? Since then I've learned that my mother is a lot more—shall we say 'open minded'—on the subject of sex than I thought!"

Joss' eyes were now screaming: _Hurry up!_

Betty adjusted her grip on her stun gun/communicator, popping the electrodes out to the "business" position, and plunged her gloved hand back into her pocket for the chip. The glove dulled her sense of touch and the moodulator unit felt a little unwieldy as she pulled it back out.

In fact, that was because she had pulled two items out of her pocket, instead of one. She could see that now as she held up the chip which was stuck to a pebble by a snarl of pocket lint.

_A pebble that looked like a small stone hand of simian aspect._

Anne picked that moment to look back at Betty.

Betty, caught off guard, fumbled the chip and its tethered companion: it fell to the floor and bounced on the carpet in front of the former Dr. Possible.

"Oh, let me get that for you," Anne said, leaning over.

"No, let me!" Joss cried, trying to beat her aunt to the chip.

"That's all right, I've got it!" Betty announced simultaneously, stooping down to grab the chip before Anne could see what it really was.

Like a perfectly executed Three Stooges routine, all three of their heads met together with a sound not unlike colliding bowling balls.

Betty dropped her stun gun on top of their intended target and, as they all were dazed by what amounted to a synchronized concussion, their hands simultaneously fell upon the device. This triggered its pent up electrical charge.

The black market chip exploded beneath the communicator, creating a halo of sparks to go with the blue-white ball of DC current that enveloped the three stunned women before hurling them apart in three different directions.

Fortunately, Yoshi appeared at that moment with Hana in tow and was able to extinguish the smoldering carpet before things became any worse for the three, now unconscious women.

Once the initial danger was past, she prioritized by going to her boss, first, and turning her over. She checked her pulse first and, finding it steady, peeled back each of her eyelids to check her pupils. Both equal and responsive.

And then it hit her: _both_ pupils! The eye patch had been knocked askew and the scars around the orbital socket were _gone_! What _wasn't_ gone was the eye that had been missing for the better part of a decade.

_And that wasn't the only change…_

Yoshi stepped back from Dr. Director and looked more closely at the other two women on the floor.

"_Nande kuso!_"

**RSVP**

They parked in front and walked around the building to the back. They paused for a few moments outside the back door then Ron walked the rest of the way around the building to the front again. He stood for a few minutes and looked up to the roofline and then across the front of the warehouse and then turned around and gazed across the street at the empty lot and then beyond to the Upperton Campus another two blocks away.

Shego, who had followed him (along with Dede, bringing up the rear), had opened her mouth to speak to him. But, as she had said, she could feel him when they were in close proximity, and he felt like he didn't want to be distracted right now.

Eventually, he produced the keys that Monique had given him during their visit at the hospital, and unlocked the heavy front doors. Shego stopped him as they stepped across the threshold. "Dede?"

The brunette B-bot stepped into the foyer and turned back and forth in a one-hundred-and-eighty degree arc. "Scanning. No sentient life forms detected. No apparent booby traps. Plumbing and electrical are up to code. This structure appears to be safe."

"Thanks Deeds," Ron said blithely as he gave her a peck on her cheek and walked on past.

Shego followed and, after a moment, the artificial woman fell into line. The hesitation was minimal yet Shego couldn't shake the impression that Dede had been put a little off balance by Ron's response.

But that was silly as the B-bot wasn't really human…

"So, how is it that your friend is living in a warehouse?" she asked as Ron wandered the corridors leading deeper into the massive structure.

"She's fallen on some hard times," he answered, opening a door and looking around a moderately sized storeroom. "Some of her student grants were unfunded after the semester began and then she lost her job at Club Banana after a new manager was brought in. A friend is letting her crash here so that she doesn't have to commute to her classes every day and this gives her enough room to work on some projects that afford her some extra income."

"Yeah?" she quipped as he closed the door and headed deeper into the building, "well, I don't know what she's being charged for rent but I'll bet the utilities are a bitch in winter."

Ron just smiled and started up a set of stairs.

"Hey," Shego said, pausing at the bottom, "I thought she said her quarters were on the ground floor."

"Just having a look around while we're here…"

Dede shot her a very human look as she hurried up the stairs after the nexus of her programming. "Ron Stoppable cannot be adequately protected if you remain down here," the robot scolded in a faintly judgmental tone.

Shego blinked in surprise and took off up the stairs to catch up to him.

"So, I was thinking about your tech and security issues," she said as she followed him out onto a catwalk over a vast open area two stories below. "I'm no boy genius but I've done most of the set-up work on Dr. D's lairs, I've got an unblemished record as a bodyguard—"

"Drakken excepted," Ron smirked.

"Uh, yeah…" She felt his amusement, not his judgment. "That's mostly _your_ fault—yours and the princess'."

"The princess?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. That's what I sometimes call Kimmie."

"Kimmie? Oh, I see: Kim Possible. Why do you call her that?"

"Man, you aren't kidding are you? You really _don't_ remember her!"

"Apparently not." He pulled out the new kimmunicator (or communicator to his mind) that Wade had handed him before the funeral services. Holding it up, he began snapping pictures of the space and structures around him. "So, _is_ she a royal pain?"

"What? No. Or yes. I guess. I call her that to get under her skin."

"Ah. Sort of a psychological battle strategy?"

"I guess. She's little Miss Perfect. '_I can do anything',_" she mimicked in a falsetto voice. "Perfect parents. Perfect family. Perfect home in the burbs. Head cheerleader. Straight-A student." She gave him a sideways look. "Perfect _boyfriend…_"

Ron laid his forearms on the catwalk's railing and leaned over to look down. "Not so much the perfect life, now, huh?" he said quietly.

She bowed her head, suddenly ashamed. In the quiet she could feel the sadness coming off of him like palpable waves. Not the deep grief of a former boyfriend or lover. More like the empathetic sadness for a fellow human being who had lost her family, had lost her daughter…

Shego stared at the blond man. _He was empathizing with Dr. Anne Possible. He really didn't remember or feel anything for his ex-partner!_

"Yeah," she said slowly, "but for several years there it seemed like she had it all while I had…Drakken. I called her 'Princess,' half to rile _her_ up and half to psych _me_ up."

"But now you're on the same side."

"Yeah." She shook off the mood. "More importantly, _we're_ on the same side. She's not here; we are. I'm the perfect choice to handle your security issues—home or excursionary."

He turned to her. "Why?"

She frowned. "Why? Well, like I said: I've got experience in—"

"No," he said. "Why would you _want_ to? With your skills and experience, you're far more valuable in the field as a Global Justice operative. Knowing your taste for adventure and your low tolerance for boredom, why would you settle for bodyguard work?"

She was tempted to say _because it's _your_ body I want to guard_, but she figured that was one slice of cheese that might not go well on the menu. "Somehow, Stoppable," she answered with a little of the old snark in her voice, "I don't see hanging around you as being very boring for the foreseeable future."

He gave her a long searching look before saying: "Remember, I can feel you, too." He turned away and began walking to the far end of the catwalk, saying: "I'm still going to need someone serious in the tech department until Wade is fully recovered. Justine Flanner might be a good alternative but I'm told that she's missing. Likewise, Felix Renton and his mother."

Shego followed him at a slightly greater distance, feeling the hot flush rising in her cheeks. Hating herself for sabotaging her advantage in proximity, she nonetheless opened her mouth and said, "What about Dr. Porter?"

He paused, considering. "Vivian? She'd probably bring a lot to the table. I'd probably have to bribe her with a lot of money to lure her away from her robotics work at the space center—even if it's only temporary."

"Yeah," Shego said drily, "I'm sure she'll be _real_ reluctant."

He paused at the end of the catwalk and frowned. "What's the matter…?" His eyes widened as she approached him and she could almost feel some kind of exchange pass between them, making the hairs rise on the back of her neck. "You're…upset…? Why? The money? If I have to offer her more money, I'll see that your compensation is upped appropriately."

Her hands were balled into fists, now, as she closed the distance between them and her face was flushed once again.

"You're angry? I…don't…"

He didn't get the chance to finish as she grabbed him roughly by the collar of his jacket and yanked his face to hers. "You've come a long way, Ron, and don't think I'm not impressed!" she hissed. "But in some ways, you're still totally The Buffoon!"

And then she kissed him savagely.

**RSVP**

Betty groaned as Yoshi helped her totter into the bathroom, a cold compress held to her head. The headache was bad enough but the there was something wrong with her eyesight, a well. It was as if she had double-vision…but, yet, _not_ double-vision…

And there was somebody else already at the sink, ahead of her.

_What was it with Stoppable? Every time she turned around there was a new hottie in the suite._ The twenty-something woman with short, garnet hair looked strangely familiar…

She glanced at the form-fitting Global Justice uniform and it dawned on her that this woman was probably one of her new agents. No wonder she seemed—

She froze.

And then slowly reached toward the woman standing on the other side of the sink.

The young agent with the bobbed, dark red hair reached toward her, in turn.

Just before they would have touched each other, her fingernails 'tik'ed against glass.

Betty stared at her younger self in the mirror for a good thirty seconds and then whirled and stumbled back into the bedroom.

A twenty-something Anne Possible lay next to a twenty-something Jocelyn Possible, looking very much like sisters and not at all like an aunt and her niece.

"Holy crap!" Betty said.

This woke Joss first, whose hands happened to fall upon her chest as she felt to see if she was all right.

"All _right!_" she exclaimed as she double cupped a significantly matured bosom. Anne had been correct: Kim had filled out nicely post-graduation but her cousin had already left her in the rearview mirror.

Yoshi groaned as she picked up Hana and carried her out of the room. Her little charge wasn't the cause of her pained exclamation but, rather, the fact that her competition seemed to have shifted from Shego and Dr. Porter to a new trio of contestants.

She realized that she would have to step up her game.

**RSVP**

Meanwhile, in a warehouse in Upperton, Colorado—just a couple of blocks away from the university campus—over two dozen light bulbs were exploding in showers of sparks above the main floor and catwalk while the rest just flickered wildly.

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**ABOUT THE TITLE: Yeah, it's cheesy, I know; but using the same title as Morris Albert's Number One hit song seemed somehow appropriate.**

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**Author's/Notes****_: _**

**_Okay, here's the expanded version of Chapter 34. Thanks to all who PMed and offered advice, as well as those who cast their votes in the Shipping Pool. _**

_**Based on your feedback (and the fact that the number of chapters in the set are becoming a little unwieldy to place find, I'm leaning toward splitting off to Part Two when the "Big Bad" (Buffyspeak) is finally revealed. Leaning, I said: no final decision is in place, yet.**_

**_How about this: I break up this epic into 3 large arcs: RSVP I: The Fellowship of the Ron, followed by RSVP II: The Two Powers, and wrap things up in RSVP III: The Return of the Kim! Your thoughts? ;-)_**

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**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 34**_**:**_

_Feudor 9/1/11 . chapter 34_

Hi!

I seem to be unable to get PM to work - the system says "disabled".

So therefore - a review!

I am very glad that you are back to posting new chapters - it was a bit frustrating to see all the repostings when I wanted to see what would happen next!

As to your question: I am not sure it really matters. If you get to a really good point in the story where you would expect story to end or make a break, you could of course do so. Could be that this would give some practical advantages. But otherwise, by all means just continue. I will keep reading anyway!

Feudor

**_Sorry to hear that you're having trouble with the Private Messaging system. I hope you can work through the problem, soon. On the other hand, always happy when circumstances contribute to a review! R~13_**

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_Pavelius 9/1/11 . chapter 34_

All i have to say...

Finally...

Someone makes a move on Ron, the most clueless guy in the universe ... i sometimes think you really need to shove the girls/women into his lap before he gets the idea...

And Anne Possible acting as Kim... wow... nice twist...

I am wildly guessing and saying that Drakkens mom is another Synthodrone from Mastermind who shall convince him to turn evil again...

For your question... this Fic has reached 150k words or so... i think if you have a really big twist or a significant other plot, you should start a new Fic and maybe rename this one so that you can connect the two of them... (like first RSVP:Begins and the second RSVP:Returns) ;)

Keep it up

Pavel

**_Ah, _****Pavelius:****_ sorry, keep guessing. You guess good (i.e. Drakken's mom)—but, no, you're getting the real Mrs. Lipsky…well, for the most part... R~13_**

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_CajunBear73 9/2/11 . chapter 34_

Oh boy...

_**Y**_**_ou say "oh boy" now but pretty soon I suspect you'll be saying "oh man!" R~13_**

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_Wanderer3 9/2/11 . chapter 34_

1) So Mama Lipsky is finally proving useful for something other than embarassment comedy.

_**Oh, yes…**_

2) aaaaaand now we have several new wrinkles into Ron's life, or would the removal of wrinkles be more accurate?

_**(Snicker)**_

3) Overall very good work as usual. But do you HAVE to keep adding in new potential love interests, or at least more women attracted to Ron? It's fun but it is starting to make my head hurt P

_**Mine, too. But I can't help it: it's a compulsion. More to the point, Ron's MMP is affecting his pheromones so the ladies can't help it… **_

4) To re-iterate my choices for relationship with Ron:

The revitalized Betty Director, the brainy beauty Vivian Porter, and the sassy Monique are my top picks.

(Mainly cause they'd be different than most other fics I've read)

Catch ya lata,

P.S. with that peck on the cheek in the warehouse (and the lingerie thing from last chap), I do hope Dede, Cece, and Bebe are not gonna add to this psuedo-harem, that would start to get ridiculous _

**_Better take some Excedrin, "Ridiculous" is my middle name. I really do like your picks—and not just for the reasons you enumerate! R~13_**

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_TheRedKommie 9/2/11 . chapter 34_

Okay, even if I am to see that Mrs P and Betty were to turn young, I am having trouble seeing Joss turning older. But beyond that, decent chapter, still holding off on my opinion, though...

Its stuff like this though that people are expecting a harem

**_Wise _**_**Redkommie**_**_: holding off on your opinion: all of the pieces are not yet on the board. As for the rest of you quiet ones out there, are you losing interest? Confused? Overwhelmed by all of the Kigo stories? (Not that there's anything wrong with them…) R~13_**

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_Sentinel103 2/28/12 . chapter 34_

So Amelia is stepping up and getting close to Ron in a way that could be unsettling to the other rivals for Ron's attention. And Betts and the two Possible females are seeming to come to the same age...Tempis Simia anyone.

We already know that Shego has the hots for Ron and now maybe one of the b-bots too. Come on Rip lets get some alien life forms involved.

But now Ron gets a little background that he might need to remember Kim Possible, but he has no idea what for until Shego gives him a little clue.

Now you know a warehouse might be a good place to hide it could be defensible too.

Larry (Sentinel 103)

**_Regarding the romantic storylines with the alien life forms? Warmonga's sister, Ursula Major, doesn't show up looking for Big Blue until Part II… R~13_**

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_Uberscribbler 12/12/12 . chapter 34_

THIS IS INSANE! What the ruddy-duddy-ding-dong-Gurney-Helleck-playing-his-banjo-blazes is DOING ALL THIS?!

Did something slip out of Ron, or were his phermones just mutated by that nuclear meltdown? Is there another hand in all this?

And 'mastermind'...I'm honestly at a loss now who s/he could be and why they're so damned scared of Team Possible (which isn't likely to exist in any meaningful form in the near future). The fact they have KP in a cage...its...its just inhuman. And unpredictable. And...and...and...

Ah, never mind. I'm sure it'll all make sense. Eventually. Maybe. Hopefully.

**_Ah_****_, _**_**Uberscribbler**_**_: the answers are there if you look closely enough. If I've burned your brain out with the multilayered insanity, relax. Mastermind will be unmasked in Chapter 41. As for the pheromones, remember what Big Ball-o-Light Rufus told Ron back in Chapter 30:_**

_**(Come see me again. You should meditate often and, in time, you may actually remember some of our conversations.)**_

_(Aw, man! You mean I'm not going to remember everything we've talked about here?)_

_**(Consciously? No. But what we retain unconsciously is often more important than what we remember. **__The light began to fade.__** Oh, and one more thing. You need to work on your unconscious control of your mystical monkey power. You are not aware but it has been affecting the libidos of the women within your sphere of influence.)**_

_(Libidos?)_

_**(Your MMP is leaving a trail of weaponized pheromones in your wake.)**_

_(Pheromones?)_

_**(Amp it down, Chief; you're making your lady friends horny.)**_

_(Ohhhh! Uh. I suppose I won't remember that, either, huh? Rufus? Buddy? Aw, man)_

**_And, yes _**_**Uberscribbler**_**_: it will all make sense. Eventually… R~13_**

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**_JDSeay 7/12/13 . chapter 34_**

I like what you are doing here so far it is really good. I like all the twists and turns it is keeping me on my toes with where it i think it might head to next and then bamm i was wrong.

_**Me, too! ;-)**_

If we are talking possible partners for Ron maybe we can go with Shego (because he needs a woman who can be assertive and be able to spar with him to settle some arguments) , Bonnie (Because i can kinda see it so far she knows his traditions and idk it just seems to work to me), Tara (because everybody needs that complete sweetheart that loves ya no matter what, and maybe Anne but young Anne (she might have been like his second mom but now that he doesn't have the memories to back it up he can now start to see her in a different light)

_**Interesting choices and I love that you justify them as you go.**_

I feel like the warehouse could become a great headquarters for him when he starts his war on mastermind and he has the money to outfit with everything he needs and if money can't get it he has enough experts with him that it could be built.

Also question id this Ron gonna receive all the technological expertise that Zorpox had if he does he might not need a tech guy/girl.

**_Excellent points, man! And, yes, we will eventually see Ron harness aspects of his Zorpox side but not too soon in the tech department as we wouldn't want to jettison the lovely Dr. Porter prematurely. R~13_**

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_Guest 7/18/13 . chapter 34 _

Type your review for this chapter here...

**_Who? Me? R~13_**

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_Some Dude 8/26/13 . chapter 34 _

Woo! Go Shego!

**_Yes, indeed! R~13_**

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_loganhunter2 chapter 34 . 1/12/14_

Betti and Ann i get Un aging joss aging not so much maybe adding some of Ann and Bett to her to have them be optimal age for mmp could be the reason ...Kim needs to step up her game still Ron go but Ron betti is gaining a small spot for me

_**Well, Betty's going to have to up her game because so far it's Anne and Sheila making any moves… R~13**_

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_BartWLewis chapter 34 . 7/19/14 _

Alright Shego kissed Ron!

_**Maybe she was just using Ron as a remote control to turn off the lights. ;-) R~13**_

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_G. Login chapter 34 . 7/20/14_

Loved that part that Amelia felt she had been caught and was in a panic. Then that was wandering what to do and Monique thought that she was sent by Ron to 'hire' her. she got lucky she wasn't right that Monique knew way she was really there.

_**Thanks, G! I really appreciate that you liked something in the story that wasn't one of the obvious "talking points". There's suble stuff, too, that I sometimes think slips past a lot of readers. And I'm wondering how readers are going to see Amelia as the story progresses: strong, self-assured woman with the good sense to recognise something good and apply herself in pursuing that goal? Or crazy, stalker woman who will do anything to get her man? R~13**_

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_sakura89luis chapter 34 . 7/20/14 _

shego is getting some ron-shine.

_**Who knew Ronshine was so...electric? R~13**_

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_PyroNagus chapter 34 . 9/25/14_

Oookay, Anne is psyched to think she's kim and now young enough to truly be Kim. How...convenient. Ughh, you know what, I'm not even gonna count these Kim 'clones' anymore. What's the point? You're just gonna keep adding new ones. But mainly because counting growing bacteria gives people headaches. XD  
Except she has blue eyes...just to point that out.;)

Uh oh... I can see Dede twitching her eyes, bound as she is to just stand there and watch. Shego better watch her step. The "emotionless" Bebe has orders to protect Ron not her...

You know, I'm very skeptical against fanfics that easily make Ron a playboy god with no good explanation. But I've come to accept this 'comical' running gag in your story (seducing a robot is just too ridiculous). Some of the readers are serious about that harem though...

_**Comical running gag? (Clutches chest in mock horror!) **_

_**And when you say "clones" do you literally mean "clones? Or are you using the term loosely to cover clones, synthodrones, robots, androids, cyborgs, shapeshifters, Camille Leon, and time-travelling alternate universe Kims? R~13**_


	35. Warehouse? There! There House!

**Required Disclaimer:** _RSVP is a non-professional, non-canonical work of Fan Faction: any resemblance to Kim Possible or any properties belonging to the Disney Empire is purely coincidental and is not meant to represent any animated characters, living or dead. _

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**Chapter Thirty-Five: Warehouse? There! There House!**

The Uptopian agent had spent the past planetary cycle acclimating to the environment and adjusting for social camouflage. Sky blue skin was tweaked through a variety of hues to match the known colors of the Earthians. Fortunately, the Earthians, like the Lowardians and the Uptopians, were humanoid in nearly every external detail. And the Uptopians and the inhabitants of this planet were nearly the same size and proportion—unlike the larger Lowardians who presented a challenge when it came to "blending in." Selections within the planetary norms for skin, hair and eye pigments could be made on the fly once the assassin could determine which would allow closest proximity to The Target.

So, where to begin?

The coordinates from the Lowardian data seemed a likely beginning for a search grid. There were three cities laid out in a row in a region that the natives had designated as "Colorado." The word was probably some colloquialism for many mountains.

Before setting down and conducting a ground search, the Uptopian flew a scoutcraft over the main population centers for the area and was rewarded with a powerful energy signature that was separate from any discernable power-generating station or broadcast tower.

It appeared to be a promising place to start a ground search.

**RSVP**

Crystal felt a moment of panic when the lights flickered on and off. Monique had set up quarters deep within the maze of interior rooms so that there were no windows and the area was pitch black if the power failed.

But after a few moments, the power seemed to stabilize and the lighting seemed brighter than ever. She quickly finished assembling a bag of personal effects she thought that her friend might need while she was in the hospital and then turned to go.

That's when she saw her costume.

Monique had obviously been busy since their last meeting: the "girdle," or extra-wide belt worn by belly dancers about their hips and atop their skirts, was done. Black and gold fabrics were chased with sequins and faux gems and trimmed with fringe and bands of seed pearls. Running around the circumference of the girdle were rows of faux gold coins that dangled by tiny loops of wire so that they swung in shimmering unisons to the movement of the dancer's pelvis. She could see that it was a perfect match to the new top that Monique had completed for her recently. The new skirt was more than half-finished but un-hemmed.

Crystal didn't know how long Monique would be laid up in the hospital or when she would be able to finish the skirt but she was dying to see how the bottom of the costume would look when the two pieces were merged together.

Well? Why not? She swiftly unbuttoned her blouse and shrugged it from her shoulders. Then she kicked off her shoes, unbuttoned her jeans, and stepped out of them. Instant nudity: Crystal had gone commando this morning to run some quick errands. Fortunately, she was alone so not wearing underwear didn't really matter in this situation.

She carefully stepped into the unfinished skirt and then fastened the shimmering girdle about her hips and tugged it down a good five inches below her belly button. Twisting her hips this way and that, she marveled at the delicate, yet sturdy construction, the musical tinkle and visual appeal of the various adornments as she moved her lower abdominals to the sound of an imaginary orchestra. Too bad she didn't have the matching brassiere with her. Throwing her arms out artfully, she began to shimmy and shake her upper torso, bringing her unfettered breasts into enthusiastic choreographies all their own.

Her eyes closed, she didn't see the door open and it took a few seconds for the voices to register in her awareness.

"Look!" a woman's voice remonstrated, "I'm sorry if I was out of line but _you_ kissed me back!"

"Not pushing you away is _not_ the same thing as kissing you back," a familiar male voice answered.

"You're right, it's not," she retorted. "But you kissed me _back_ just the same. And you _liked_ it! Or what was that light show all abo—_holy crap!_"

Crystal opened her eyes to see Ron Stoppable standing just five feet away, wide-eyed and open-mouthed and staring at her.

She squeaked and crossed her arms over her bosom. The unfinished skirt pulled a "stoppable" and fell around her ankles, leaving the dusky brunette with just a wide, belt-like garment for cover.

"You have got to be frickin' _kidding me!_" Shego exclaimed behind him. "There's no way this kind of stuff keeps happening unless your mystic monkey mojo is diddling the laws of the universe!"

**RSVP**

"So," Yoshi said, picking up the stone fragment with a pair of kitchen tongs, "ever since you extracted this from the stasis lockers at the GJ Tokyo HQ and carried it around on your person, you've experienced—what—a feeling that your body was getting younger?"

Betty looked down as she finished buttoning up the side flap of her uniform. "I'd call it more than a feeling at this point."

Yoshi nodded. "Well, the discharge from your stun gun and the moodulator chip appears to have triggered some kind of release of the artifact's effect, as well, accelerating the process. Obviously it had the same effect on Dr. Possible, too."

"But Jocelyn got older, not younger."

"Since all three of you were caught in the same area of effect, I imagine that the process brought the temporal signatures for the three of you into a kind of balance—equalizing your combined ages like the anchor points of an equilateral triangle."

"But…how?"

Yoshi shrugged. "I don't know how mystical artifacts work. Studying the Stoppable files, I was led to some ancient texts regarding the stone monkey idols reputed to be imbued with the conferrable powers of a mystical monkey mojo. From there, it was a short jump to other supposedly imbued idols with different powers. One of them—the Tempus Simia—could purportedly give its master powers over time, itself. This fragment—apparently a stone monkey paw—could be a fragment of such an artifact."

"Affecting time in such a way as to age Joss and de-age Anne and myself?" Betty asked incredulously. "Really, Yoshi; I appreciate that your culture is rich with folklore and legends but we live in an age of science, not superstition."

"Says the woman who just lost a decade in the last hour. And let's not forget the young man who can throw ten-foot aliens across a city, hold up an orphanage with his bare hands, and walk through deadly radiation. You got a better explanation? I'm listening."

Betty took the tongs from Yoshi and dropped the stone fragment into a GJ evidence bag. "Several years ago we were conducting our study of The Ron Factor and monitoring him with an array of sensors and scanning equipment when the readings suddenly went off the charts. The theoretical physicists claimed that the earth had passed through some sort of temporal anomaly resulting in a 'time quake'—their words, not mine.

"No one tied a worldwide temporal event to the subject we were monitoring—most of the world was unaware that anything had even transpired. But, in analyzing the telemetry, the physicists found additional readings to indicate that a temporal signature of the event continued to exist about the person of one Ronald Dean Stoppable…"

"Why am I no longer surprised?" Yoshi muttered.

"That signature and Mr. Stoppable parted company the next day," Betty continued. "I dispatched a science forensics team to the Stoppable home while Ron was in school and his parents were at work. They discovered that the signature was tied to this stone fragment. It was lodged in his pants cuff and, since wore a different pair of pants the next day, the artifact and its temporal signature were now separate from his person. Subsequent interviews with Mr. Stoppable indicate that he has no knowledge or memory of any event that would explain a temporal anomaly."

"Did you try regressive hypno-therapy?"

"We did," Betty answered wryly. "We thought we had something for a moment but all we could get out of him was two words and then he would start to shudder uncontrollably."

"Two words?"

"Meat cakes."

"Inscrutable."

"Indeed. And probably not relevant. The big brains say that a time quake would most likely erase any evidence, knowledge, or memory of what would trigger such an event."

"So," Yoshi surmised, "all you were left with is a fragment of a stone statue or idol—possibly the Tempus Simia. And it ended up in Asian Pacific branch how?"

Betty smiled. "Well, as I said, the Japanese culture embraces its mystic past far more readily than a number of technologically advanced countries. Which means that there are more scientist/scholars with an appreciation of folklore and ancient artifacts than my western techies…who were totally stumped."

"I guess you've got some new data for them, huh?"

Betty affixed her subordinate agent with a warning glare that was twice as potent now that she had discarded her eye patch. "When and how I disclose that information is something that I will take some _time_ to decide—no pun intended. In the meantime, I've got too many fires to put out and the _Possibilities Project _to reboot. Getting sidelined and turned into some sort of lab rat would not serve the greater responsibilities of Global Justice at this time and I certainly don't relish the prospects of disappearing into some government research facility."

Yoshi shivered. "I see your point."

**RSVP**

The former Bebe unit—once interchangeable with all other Bebes comprising the hive-mind gestalt of the Bebe robot continuum—and now a separate and distinct artificial life form known as Dede…pondered.

Normally, any calculation, any intellectual formulation, would take nano-seconds or less, depending upon the complexity and potential variables for any given topic.

But Dede wasn't calculating. She wasn't running formulas.

She was…_pondering_.

And as the nano-seconds turned into micro-seconds, and those stretched into actual movements of a second-hand sweep on a clock, she realized that she was caught in a feedback loop that would present no satisfactory conclusion without the application of more data.

Ron Stoppable had kissed her.

He had kissed the Shego woman—or, rather—he had returned the kiss in like manner. And _that_ manner was far different than the "peck" (as the dictionary categorized it) on the cheek that he had bestowed upon her…

But the fact remained that he had treated her as if she were a person. As if she was human.

And he had—peck or not—_kissed_ her.

Why this should be important—why she was devoting processing time and resources—was unclear.

Apparently, however, it held some mysterious significance for her and so she pondered upon its possible meanings.

Until it was repetitively evident that it all resulted in a dead-end feedback-loop.

She understood that there could be no conclusion at this juncture without more data, so further processing was pointless until the additional information could be acquired.

But, illogical as it might seem, she could not set the process aside: she continued to..._ponder_…the matter, anyway.

**RSVP**

Dr. Drakken was not accustomed to taking his mother's advice seriously—at least not once she was out of sight.

The woman was, after all, certifiable—or at least she had been, up to and including those years she spent at the Lowerton Sanitarium. Even after her release from the Laughing Academy, she had seemed more than a little balmy.

And while Drakken certainly lived up to the moniker of "Mad Scientist" on more than one occasion, he was leery of trusting his fate to anyone crazier than he was. This, although narrowing the field considerably, still included his batshit crazy mom.

Still, the one thing that he could absolutely rely on was that his mother—whether locked in angry, paranoid psychotic mode or muddling about in ditzy, lala, if-I-only-had-a-brain mode—_always_ had the best intentions when it came to "her Drewbie."

So he pondered his mother's advice as he went back to work at the Global Justice labs.

He had been happy in his new life. For awhile. Being a world hero wasn't that far off from his original goals—i.e. world conqueror. He was now officially in the history books, billions of people knew his name, and he got fan mail from chicks that really dug his scar and his _Blue Man Group_ vibe.

But the untold wealth and power that supposedly came with total global domination, was not a part of _this _deal and Global Justice—undoubtedly wary of his past peccadilloes—had buried him with a mountain of busywork in their R&D Department instead of trotting him out for tickertape parades like that pesky Kim Possible and—er—what'shisname.

And, like his twenty minutes of fame, the modicum of respect and good will seemed to have run out shortly thereafter—a point that was reinforced as he checked the duty roster and saw that he was assigned to the greenhouses. Again.

"Hey, Blue Boy!" one of the junior lab techs called as he pondered the indignity of assigning a brilliant theoretical scientist gardening chores; "you're on Mulch Duty, today! Chop chop!"

Maybe his mother (for once) was right. With Kim Possible and The Buffoon off of the board, perhaps the time was auspicious to take _drakkenian_ measures.

But…

What about _her_?

Despite his reputation, Drew Lipski a.k.a. Dr. Drakken wasn't a "complete" idiot (though, admittedly, he did have his moments).

He understood that he would need to bide his time if he were to have a chance with the former Anne Credible, now the Widow Possible. It was too soon to approach the grieving woman as anything but a friend.

And the question was no longer how she might feel about a former villain/former nemesis to her missing daughter?

It would be how she might feel about the newly empowered planetary monarch who offered her the world and the opportunity to rule at his side?

…

Probably not...

For a moment he considered the two paths that lay before him.

Woo Anne Possible as Drew Lipsky, reformed super-villain…

…or take the planet and her as his queen as he finally pursued his destiny unimpeded by Team Possible?

But to do the latter—to convert the redheaded beauty to the Dark Side—he would need more than charm, more than logical persuasion.

More than cookies…

_He would have to get his hands on an Attitudinator!_

The annoying voice of the lab tech interrupted his reverie: "Did you hear me, Dr. Duh? There are a couple of metric tons of compost awaiting the delicate touch of your tiny, gloved fingers!"

Drakken's mouth curled up in a big, toothy grin—a goofy-looking smile that elicited snickers from the other emboldened techs.

But, if Shego had been present, she would have shivered, recognizing the trademarked "Things Are About to Go Boom" expression that the blue man displayed when he was about to pull the pin and to hell with the consequences.

**RSVP**

"Are you familiar with the foundational work of the Western Father of Psychoanalysis?" the old man asked his former student.

Hirotaka frowned. "In passing, Sensei."

"He was once quoted as saying: 'Sometimes a cigar is only a cigar'." The white moustaches twitched up humorously.

"I—I do not understand."

The old man sighed. "What I am trying to say is: sometimes a dream is only a dream."

"But I have dreamed of her three times now!"

The old man looked down at the hands folded in his lap. "If she were still alive, do you think I would not know? That I would not feel her _tamashii_?"

The young Japanese man shook his head. "I do not pretend to understand, Grandfather. I only know that these dreams do not feel like dreams. They feel like…a connection!"

The old man was silent for a long time. Then he clutched his scarlet kimono and arose. "I must meditate upon this further," he said. And then shakily retired to his hut on unsteady legs.

**RSVP**

Ron clicked off his phone and nodded to a now-dressed Crystal. "Thanks, C. Your dad is an okay dude.

The awestruck former cheermate gaped at the former Mad Dog mascot. "You're gonna buy this warehouse?"

"Bought. Just have to swing by the bank and sign some papers."

Shego shook her head. "Why?"

Ron shrugged nonchalantly. "Need a place to crash. Can't stay in the penthouse forever."

"For a place to crash, you buy a house. But this—?"

"I like lots of room. And…I need a hobby."

"A hobby?" the two women chorused.

"Jinx," Ron informed them, "you owe me a soda."

"Two, if my calculations are correct," Dede added.

**RSVP**

Elle knew that it was just a matter of time before Mastermind turned her attention back to the prisoners in her little dungeon.

Dr. Renton was probably safe, for now. She'd be kept for leverage against her son—or vice versa—and both had a good chance of being released once Master_bitch_ had achieved her goals. The Mistress of Crime was not generally vindictive toward those she bore no actual grudges—though she would willingly throw innocent lives away if it helped her accomplish her specific goals.

Kim Possible was another matter.

Elle was surprised the former heroine was still alive. Perhaps she had something special planned for her: a public humiliation followed by an equally public execution.

Or something worse…

Elle had worked with—no—make that worked _for_—Mastermind long enough to know that the villainess had been plotting the destruction of Team Possible for at least two years, now. Whatever she had planned, it was not going to end well for the former teenager.

But whatever she had planned for the Possible girl—and her former partner—it might well be merciful compared to what Mastermind would probably do to her.

The woman behind the mask took disloyalty very personally. Elle had witnessed great acts of cruelty meted out against underlings for the slightest infractions or perceived slights. Even Camille Leon's cat, Debutante, had been killed in retribution for the shape-shifting woman's apparent insubordination—despite the fact that its mistress had already paid the ultimate price for Mastermind's displeasure.

Camille had dared to stick her toe over the line, thinking that she wasn't really committing a serious breach. Elle, on the other hand, had been found out as a traitor—negotiating with the enemy and preparing to bolt. Using her own bio-currents to torture her and the bumbling minions of that fool Fukushima were just the warm-up act, she was sure. Soon—very soon—the floating bitch would be back down here with a more vengeful plan that would involve even more pain, more humiliation.

And, ultimately, her death.

Once again, Elle forced herself to become calm and sit lotus-style on the plastic bunk in her hardened-plastic cage. Elle stepped back into the shadows of her consciousness and let Electronique come to the fore.

Mastermind was very clever. She had studied the Electronique's M.O. She had catalogued all of the things she had done with wiring and electronics and even had documented the power and distance that she could hurl her own bio-electricity without a conductor. When the henchmen would come for her, they would drain off her reserves before moving into striking distance. She would be powerless against them.

But, perhaps there was another way.

Mastermind would expect a direct attack.

Perhaps she and her henchmen would be less prepared for an indirect strike…

**RSVP**

Kim Possible didn't know why she was happy.

She was a prisoner.

Locked in a small cell.

She needed to escape—to get to her family! Ron had been injured! Her mother—Oh God! What had happened to the rest of them? Her father? The Tweebs?

She needed to get out!

SHE HAD TO GET OUT!

And yet…

She was happy.

It was all right.

Everything was fine.

All those crazy thoughts and worries in her head couldn't be real.

Because she was…happy.

_Think!_ she scolded herself. Happily. _How can you be happy when you are a prisoner? How can you not be very, very angry and/or very, very worried?_

If she was happy under these circumstances then there had to be a reason.

She ought to be able to figure it out. After all, she could do anything!

Including be a happy captive.

She thought about it.

A lot.

There really wasn't much else to do while locked up.

Ron, she decided.

She was happy that Ron really hadn't tried to rape her!

His love and devotion were restored as the one inalienable constant in her universe: the North Star around which everything else turned.

And Ron, no longer the goofy sidekick—the distracting, pants-dropping, comedy relief—was worthy to take the lead, now: in their missions _and_ in their relationship.

Ron would save her.

Ron would tear down the walls of this dungeon, free her and the other two women, and give this Mastermind a thrashing that would make the ending of the Lowardian invasion look like taking out the trash!

That was why she was happy!

It had to be.

Because she couldn't come up with anything better.

And it was hard to think clearly with someone screaming down in the basement.

Eventually she realized that the basement wasn't real and that the screaming was coming from another part of her own mind.

_But at least she was happy!_

* * *

**ABOUT THE TITLE: Two words: "Young Frankenstein."**

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**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 35**

_EnterpriseCV-6 9/7/11 . chapter 35_

I had figured it out a long time ago that Kim WASN'T dead but held hostage and now what needs to happen is everybody needs to "put 2&2 together" and BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF "MASTERMIND" (and trust me IF this happened to my friends WW3 would NOT be far from happening)

**_Always good when a reader finally figures out that they can't trust me—that is in terms of throwing a little (or a lot) of misdirection into the plot. Hopefully that leads to readers trusting me to keep them interested & entertained. As for Mastermind's retribution? Well, we'll see… R~13_**

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_Pavelius 9/8/11 . chapter 35_

You know... i am picturing Kim grinning in the last passage like Heath Ledger as Joker in "The Dark Knight" during his ride in the police car... mad as hell ...

_**Ooooooo! Good image!**_

For the breaking up of the tale... how about you create a Directors Cut / Extended Version with 1 extra page per part for only double the price of the original ... wait... that was allready done ...

Onwards to the chapter... so Ron has his "Harem girl" now.. nice... and the BeBe-bots are developing feelings... hmmm...

And i got a crazy idea who is behind Mastermind... but it is so crazy i wont post it ;

Anyway, keep it up

Pavel

_**Knowing you, I'll bet that you do have figured it out. Thanks for not blurting it out to the others. ;-) R~13**_

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_CajunBear73 9/8/11 . chapter 35_

Looks like you're loading the starting gate before the Run for the Ronster really takes off.

Some wrinkles from the Sitch in time non-remembered-mission pokes up and lends some mysterious explanation with Betty, Anne and Joss. Can't wait to see how this shakes out.

_**Me neither!**_

Drakken seems to be about to make a colossal career change, and I think it's due to some of Mastermind's work with whacko Mom...

Dede seems to be heading off into Asmimov land at this writing. What of the other two...?

Elle may get out yet and maybe take some prisoners with her?

And Kim seems to be fighting her way out, but she still has no clue of what's waiting on the outside, should she get outside in one piece.

**_Sounds like you have a handle on this big bag-o-sitches. Mmmmm, meatcakes anyone? R~13_**

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_DarianMograin 9/10/11 . chapter 35_

Hi Riplakish. I just found your story a few days ago and I couldn't put it down. I cannot remember the last time I found a fic that had me on the edge of my seat like yours.

I love the direction you are going with the plot. You do an excellent job of tying in bits from old episodes. I liked the tie-in from "Sitch in Time" in this chapter, although I do agree with a previous reviewer in that making Joss older doesn't quite seem to work for the plot. Also, I've got some really bad feelings about what Drakken is planning. I do have some thoughts about what's going to happen with him and Momma Lipsky but knowing how you love to do the bait-and-switch I'm not going to make assumptions.

So now one of the B-bots is showing affection towards Ron? Are you going to have every single female character in the story as a potential romance interest? It was fun to read at first but introducing so many love interests is becoming a bit frustrating, especially considering it's been 35 chapters so far and Ron has not shown any romantic feelings for anyone other than Yori. As much as I'd love to see Ron with a harem I cannot image all those women willingly sharing him. It would need to be done tastefully and with good relationship development in order to make it work. Otherwise, as you said, it would turn into a pornographic orgy. (Not that I wouldn't mind reading that!)

Speaking of romantic interests, I'm personally casting my vote for Shego. It seems she genuinely cares for Ron as a person and not just because of his hero status or MMP pheromone power. He seems to relate to her better than some of the other women, although Vivian would be a good second choice. As for Kim, it would be nice to see a happy reunion where they fall in love all over again and everything is all sunshine and rainbows but considering how masterfully you've manipulated events in the plot, I cannot see a perfect ending happening. Plus it seems like 90% of stories on this page are either Kim/Ron or Kigo. I have nothing against those stories but it gets boring seeing the same pairings over and over again.

There are still a ton of questions that need answering. Is Ron going to start actively seeking out those who killed his family? Are we going to see Mego and Killigan again? Is Mama Lipsky working for Mastermind or is she just looney? Please update soon so we can find out.

**_Welcome aboard and I hope to keep you entertained for awhile to come. Sit back (away from the edge of your seat) and relax: meatcakes will be served shortly. As for the Joss/Dede/harem issues? I'm walking a bit of a tightrope with both an "underage" character and Mrs. Dr. P. Let's see if I can keep from falling. The robot ish? Likewise. As for Ron's lack of orgy-time (so far)? Still in mourning and a bit confused (as well as dealing with some inner turmoil) so he's just picking his way through the minefield right now. Like you say, all of these potentials willing to share? So not happening. At least, right now. And, if I understand you correctly, you're not so interested in this turning out to be a Kigo story…right? Sorry, I make no promises… ;-) _**

**_As you say IF it were to develop into any kind of multiple partners sitch, the relationships would have to be developed carefully—and that takes time… R~13_**

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_Sentinel103 2/29/12 . chapter 35_

It's good to be happy Rippy, Kimmie needs some happiness in her life. Of course now three members of her family have been terminated by those incompetents...hummmm a shard of Tempis Simia...ya know someone who's imaginative could do a lot of good with that thing...or really screw something up.

Now who do WE know that made a living blowing stuff up and creating destruction and mayhem?

Larry (Sentinel 103)

**_Hey _****Larry****_, as to what good or what (further) mischief will come from the fragment of the Tempus Simia remains to be seen. But Kim's brothers are still alive—just nobody knows it, yet, but Justine. And, yes: there will be mayhem and blowing things up! R~13_**

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_Guest 12/13/12 . chapter 35_

This actually explains a few things. Okay, just two of the BIG things. And maybe a couple smaller things. But mostly the things that've been bothering me for a bit.

And now that that's out of the way...well, a KP whose brain is in a permanent warm-wash-and-spin-cycle isn't a pretty sight. Can we maybe do something about that?

**_Oh yes! We'll be addressing the Kim sitch. But you can probably figure out by now that nothing happens very quickly here, much less right away… R~13_**

* * *

_Some Dude 8/27/13 . chapter 35_

So I'm hoping that Ron will save Kim... or is that too much to expect?

**_Kim? Who's Kim? R~13_**

* * *

Guest chapter 35 . 7/20/14

Another great chapter can't wait for the next

_**Good thing for you I'm posting it the very same day! R~13**_

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___sakura89luis chapter 35 . 7/20/14 _

this story has little reviews for a freaking awesome story. keep doing a fantastic job, eagerly waiting for the next update.

_**Thanks! I sometimes think there are fewer reviews because I don't make my readers wait for weeks or months between posts. Perhaps I should experiment-pretend that the story is abandoned for several months and then...but no. I'll try to keep to a schedule of posting the re-edited chapters about one every one to three days. (Although I do work faster when I feel the pressure of extra reviews...) R~13**_

* * *

___Uberscribbler chapter 35 . 7/20/14_

Oh, dear god. Now that the Uptopian is on-planet, combined with the ever-growing...circle surrounding Ron, this isn't adding up to a terribly orderly future.

_**What made you think it was orderly now? I don't plot, I fingerpaint with words!**_

That's not counting what's happening to KP this very moment (nor the fact Ron is going to be *terribly* embarrassed once his memory of her gets restored).

_**What? You don't think I have another Amnesia Button on my keyboard? Oops! (Claps hand over mouth)**_

Incidentally, what happened with all those monkey ninjas from a few chapters back? Why on earth would they be guarding Wade in the first place? On Ron's order, I know, but *why* would they take his orders? Its not like he exactly endeared himself when we last saw Monty, did he? Or did he? Its kinda hard to keep track of the various plot threads here.

_**I may be leaning too heavily on the original material and not filling in enough material. Especially given that some of the readers have not seen every single episode of all four sesons and-for those that have-it's been several years now. Though all of the episodes are now available on YouTube ya lazy louts!**_

_**In any event, I've slipped a little Monkey Ninja recap into the next chapter. Thanks for raising the question! See, folks? There really is some good that comes out of these re-edits! R~13**_

Oh, and very good detail about Wade's GSW injury and the dangers of standard-issue ammo verse the heavier stuff. Most writers don't bother with little stuff like that.

_**Thanks again! The devil is in the details and I am a devil (according to my wife and most of her family). I actually found this out when I was doing research for one of my other books and was trying to figure out how to turn wad-cutters into silver frag-loads for hunting vampires. Funny thing about armor-piercing vs. mushrooming ammo. The stuff that cops typically use is more deadly to the target than the ordinance that the military use. Why? Because the police don't want to shoot an armed criminal and have the bullet pass through the bad guy and then through the wall of a building and hit a child or an innocent bystander. The "Glaser" type rounds bounce around inside the body of the target, doing more damage, but they're less likely to go straight through and hit someone across the street.**_

_**Here's a couple more for you hard-core readers and writers! There's a lot of sloppy writing about firearms and the two biggest offenders are cordite and clips. How many times have you read about "the smell of cordite in the air" after a firefight? The problem is cordite hasn't been used in the manufacture of gunpowder since World War II. You'd have to be firing very old ordinance to smell "cordite" in the air. Also, you'll sometimes read where someone shoves a fresh clip in his automatic (handgun). Not such a good idea. Clips go in (automatic) rifles, magazines go in handguns. It's a mistake passed on from writer to writer and easy to swallow if you see it in a published book by a professional author. But it's still wrong and real gun enthusiasts laugh at us and don't take our stories seriously if we make these mistakes.**_

_**P.S. I don't own any firearms so I've had to do the research. Nothing against firearms owned and operated by reasonable, safety-minded people, but I've never had or felt the need where I live and work. No judgment. Just stating the fact that research is a writer's best friend. As long as you're not getting your info from an unreliable source. So, use more than one source to verify-not just the author who's passing along bad information or the gun nut who actually knows very little about his toys as opposed to an owner who really understands his "arsenal." Whew! (Climbs back down off the soapbox.) R~13**_

* * *

_PyroNagus chapter 35 . 9/30/14_

Okay Rippy, I understand that it's the real mamma lipstick..er..lipsky whatever.(too lazy to spell-check) what I was really suggesting was whether she's really crazy or under the control of the mastermind. I know I'm being paranoid but in a story like yours something as ominous as a mom openly suggesting the path of evil is thoroughly suspicious. I mean I'd be disappointed if she wasn't under control. Js

_**Well, I can tell you that she's really crazy. Of course, "crazy" is a sliding scale for all of us: is she kinda weird co-worker who keeps 17 cats and has conversations with her imaginary friend? Or shading more toward the other end with a collection of assault rifles and plans to take out a baseball stadium full of people? And how much crazy did her mad scientist son inherit?**_

Hmmm... Guessing mastermind's hidden identity was very conflicting for me. I ran through the list of all of the possible suspects of KP verse (all of them) checking mastermind MO as I did. And boy, when you officially stated that he's a she the list narrowed down to freakin no one... Well, actually maybe that one gal. Like the mastermind she can hold a grudge something fierce alright, but she didn't strike me as the type to be able to pull of such brilliant schemes. Maybe even lose herself in hatred but not not brightest star in our sky. Keep it up buddy. ;)

_**Which one gal? Shego? Adrena Lynn? Or Miss Hatchet, the scary librarian from the Middleton School library in the episode "Overdue"? I'm surprised that no one has guessed Nanny Mane. R~13**_


	36. Party of the First Part

**Author's/Notes: **

**_A couple of confessions at this point: the story has not quite unfolded in the way I had originally envisioned it. The characters and the readers start bringing in their own influences and situations take on a life and complexity quite different than the simple idea I had at the beginning—like the old saying in warfare: every battle plan goes up in smoke the moment the first shot is fired. _**

_**One of the interesting developments has been The Ron Effect on the ladies in this story. This wasn't originally envisioned as a "Harem Story" (still not admitting that it's become one by the definitions of what I think constitutes the other Harems in Fan Fiction). For some time I've had a mystical monkey re-set button prepared to prevent the kind of implosion that so often plagues the Harem formula. I had figured on pressing that button well before now. But, as I've said, things evolve and change…**_

_**The interesting thing to come out of this is how the tension is ratcheting up. **_

_**Oh, not the tension between the ladies—although there will be more of that to come, I'm sure. Or the tension of who will Ron tumble into bed with—or in what order. Never mind that Ron is still mourning his poor dead wife and daughter—and now his parents, as well.**_

_**No, the tension I find most intriguing is how many readers are fretting that the "Harem aspect" is reaching levels of unsustainability while there have yet to be any graphic sexual encounters between the principals. (Maybe I should change the rating from an "M" back to "T".)**_

_**Obviously, under normal conditions it would be ludicrous for one man to capture the attention of so many women. Unless he were Brad Pitt. Or George Clooney. Or—well, you get the idea. And neither of those guys have single-handedly stopped an alien invasion or thrown ten-foot aliens across the city, while subconsciously revving up all female hormones with a ten mile radius with mystical monkey mojo.**_

_**But the problem that I think is emerging is not so much that the whole Roncentric aspect of the story is silly (which, let's face it, our stories are based on a cartoon that gave us four seasons of a lot of silliness) but that many of you are saying that the story hasn't been silly to this point and you're saying "please, don't let it become silly! Don't screw it up now by over-reaching!"**_

_**It's a balancing act, to be sure. And remember those guys who used to spin plates on top of those long poles? You may think I'm already spinning too many plates at this point in the story but I think I can do a few more before the curtain comes down on Act I. **_

_**But I intend to hold the Ronster to the same high standards that makes a lot of you care whether or not I blow it at this point in the tale. Still…I think I'll keep the rating at "M"—just in case.**_

* * *

**Required Disclaimer:** _Fan Fiction. Not for Profit of any kind. Author has no rights to the source material. Just havin' a little fun… _

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Six: Party of the First Part**

As Shego set the parking brake, Monique struggled to position the crutches so that she could slide from the seat in the rental van to the parking lot just outside the sliding door.

"I got that," Ron announced, jumping out of the front passenger seat and handing off the crutches to Cece. Scooping Middleton High's Number One fashionista into his arms, he carried her toward the back door of the warehouse.

"Ron! What are you doing? Put me down!"

"No can do, Mon," he answered shaking his head. "I'm a busy man. Got things to do. You move too slow."

"You silly boy," she said, playfully slapping at his chest. (_Oh my_, she thought, _that chest has grown a bit more impressive of late!_) You didn't have to give me a ride home from the hospital…"

"Eh," he shrugged, "it was on my way."

"…but since you did, you certainly don't need to stick around to walk me to my door. If you need to get somewhere, you can take off, now."

"I can?" Ron asked, all innocence.

"Well, yes," the girl in his arms answered, trying to keep the sudden disappointment out of her voice. "You can run along now. Go home or take care of business or whatever."

"Good," he said as they reached the back door, "because I really do need to go home. And take care of some business. And…well…whatever. Especially whatever." He knocked on the back door with his elbow.

The door was opened by Bonnie who hopped out to hold it open as they entered. Tara was waiting just inside with a wheelchair.

As Ron helped her down and into the chair, positioning the cast that encompassed her leg for maximum comfort, she hugged his neck and kissed him on the cheek—a gesture taken in by Bebe and Cece who turned to look at Dede with what could only be described as thoughtful expressions. "Thanks, Ron," Monique said, "I guess I'm in good hands, now."

"Okay, then," he grinned, I guess I'll be running along home, now." And just stood there.

"So. Um," Monique said after a few moments. "Am I missing something here?"

Bonnie and Tara burst out laughing. "Ron _is_ home," Bonnie told her. "He purchased this place yesterday and moved all his stuff in last night."

Monique's mouth fell open. "You bought my warehouse?"

"Well…" Ron scuffed at the floor with the toe of his shoe. "…technically it's _my_ warehouse. Now."

"Oh…I see…" Monique looked ready to do a little toe-scuffing herself—except one leg was encased in a cast and elevated and the other had a wheelchair footrest in the way. "How soon will you want me to move?"

"Well, that's not up to me," Ron said, moving behind her to take control of the wheelchair from Tara. "That will be up to the contractors."

"So, I've got a little while?" she asked as he began pushing her down the hallway.

"Oh sure. First I have to get a final design from the architects. Then the contractors will be brought in and we'll prioritize the different parts of the building. You'll stay down here until your new apartment is ready upstairs. I'm hoping that, by then, you'll be a little more mobile so being up on the second floor won't be such an inconvenience."

"Wait a minute—did you say 'apartment'?"

"Well, Jeez, Mon! You can't live in the restaurant and I'm planning on using the rest of the first floor for a mini-mall and office space. The living quarters will be finished, first. Then the first floor and the public areas. The other—well, the rest is on a need to know basis."

The black girl reached back over her shoulder and got a hold of Ron's collar. "Here's a need to know for ya!" She pulled his face down next to hers. "I need to know what you intend to do with me!"

"Well, I intend to make a few financial investments and it's come to my attention that Club Banana is hemorrhaging customers like somebody pulled the fire alarm. I was thinking of finding a fashion start-up that needs a little seed money to get started with the opportunity of turning a real profit down the road…"

She yanked a little harder so that their faces were just inches apart. Staring into his soft brown eyes—_Milk Dud eyes_, she thought—she whispered: "You'd do that for me?"

"No. I'd do that for me," he murmured back. "You're a good investment, Monique. You work hard, you know your stuff, and you have a real eye for fashion. I'm just beating the other investors who would have figured it out sooner or late—"

She kissed him.

This was no peck on the cheek.

It was a full-on, turn-up-the-steam, lip-lock that threatened to turn into a close-the-door and pull-the-shades affair until Monique lost her grip on Ron's collar. As he straightened up, Shego stepped in and murmured: "Too soon?"

"What?"

"I said, 'too soon?' I mean, _that's_ what you said to me."

"That was different," Ron answered, still keeping his voice low.

"How was that kiss different? Other than the fact that she was sitting down?"

"She wasn't offering anything more than a gesture of thanks. She's not looking to start a relationship."

Shego looked at the expression on Monique's face. "You sure about that, Monkey Boy?"

"We'll talk about this later," he hissed.

"_That's_ what you said the day before yesterday. I'm still waiting."

At that point the doors leading into the manufacturing area opened and a chorus of "Surprise!" rolled over them. Ron turned the wheelchair toward the Welcome Home party he had arranged through Tara and Bonnie last night.

**RSVP**

The cavernous space had been hurriedly decorated with balloons and streamers. Folding tables laden with goodies were spaced about and a local DJ was cranking tunes from the corner. Yet, despite the fifty or so friends and former classmates that milled about, chatting and noshing and dancing and even doing a little exploring, most of the common area remained empty due to the vast amounts of space provided by the building's overall dimensions.

Monique found herself at the center of a revolving throng of well-wishers.

Zita Flores approached with two pieces of cake and sat next to her former roommate. "So," she said, handing her a piece folded in a napkin, "I hear you're trading up."

"I can't believe it, girl! Baby boy has offered to set me up in my own little shop. He says he's going to open a restaurant and, right next door, a little mini-mall. He thinks it's the perfect location, so close to the Upperton University campus."

"What other businesses does he plan to lease to?" the Hispanic girl asked. "Because if he's looking to spread some investment capital around, I'd like to propose a computer and electronics store I've been thinking about."

"I don't know," Monique said, after a bite of gooey cake. "He said he's still in the process of creating rough sketches for the architects. Apparently he plans to live here as well as offer some apartment rentals. And, from a couple of things he said, I think he plans on running some sort of business operation, as well."

"You mean in addition to the restaurant?"

The black girl shrugged. "I really don't know. I've been kind of out of it these past few days. And is that Dr. Director over there? What happened to her? And is that _Kim's_ mom? Oh my god! "Wha—?"

"Girl, I forgot: you _have_ been out of the loop!" And Zita began to explain (as best she could) the sketchy circumstances as to how (and when) two women in their forties were suddenly of an age with that too-hot robotics scientist.

Neither one had seen Joss, yet.

**RSVP**

"What kind of tech?" Betty asked the blonde roboticist.

Vivian shrugged as she dipped another cup from the punchbowl. "We only talked briefly and in generalities so far. He's a busy man, right now. I know that he wants to make this building totally secure. If he leaves Hana here he needs to know that she's totally safe."

"So, you're going to design the security systems for this place?"

"It's more than that," she said as she gazed about over the rim of her cup for another blond head in the room. "He's offered me my own lab space here. I'll be taking a two-year sabbatical from the Space Center to work on my own projects and serve as Ron's Tech Person—or at least until such time as Dr. Load is able to make a full recovery."

"It sounds like he wants you for more than a building security system," the surprisingly young head of Global Justice observed, looking about the room, herself.

"Gosh, I sure hope so," Viv said with a giggle that was not entirely lost on the GJ agent. Then she said: "Look up."

Betty looked up and thought her new-found depth-perception was playing tricks on her. "There's something in the rafters…moving…"

"They're monkeys," Vivian qualified.

Betty smiled. "Ninja monkeys! Or monkey ninjas. I can never remember which."

"You know about them?"

Betty nodded. "It's in his files. A weird, British, martial artist named Lord Montgomery Fiske—or Monkey Fist—trained them as an elite, simian attack squad. Had them believing in some mystical mumbo jumbo that he was some kind of chosen one and inheritor of some kind of special monkey powers."

"So what are they doing here?"

Betty contemplated the furry forms hanging from the warehouse rafters. "It's a bit complicated. Apparently back when the Middleton Space Center was set to launch a monkey into space—"

"Frederick. Yeah, I remember," Vivian said.

"Well some sort of scroll was retranslated indicating that their leader or master or sensei was supposed to be Ron Stoppable instead of this Fiske character."

"Bet he didn't like that."

"Which one? And you're right: neither one did. Fiske, obviously. Stoppable was really monkey-phobic back then and their transfer of allegiance really freaked him out. They would follow him home…"

"I'm having a hard time imagining Ron Stoppable freaking out over friendly monkeys. This is a guy who stopped an alien invasion and walked into a deadly radiation field, expecting to die to save the rest of us!"

"You didn't really know him back then," Betty said. "He's grown up a lot these past two years. Anyway, in the face of overwhelming rejection, the monkey ninjas eventually went back to this Monkey Fist but returned again when the crazy loon got turned into stone."

Vivian gave her a look. "Turned into stone?"

Betty arched an eyebrow. "Harder to believe than two forty-somethings and a sisteen-year-old magically transformed to the mutual age of twenty-five?"

"I take your point. But back to mine…even monkey—er—ninjas aren't enough in the way of building security for him. He's made that quite clear. He wants defense and weapons systems. And he wants at least a little of it to be personal and/or portable as well."

"For…?" Betty prompted.

"I think he's planning something big. Something beyond some kind of fortress set-up. If I were a betting woman, I'd wager he plans on taking a hunting trip."

"He's going to look for the people behind the deaths of his parents and the Possibles," Betty said grimly.

"After the way he handled the Lowardians, I'm not sure he needs _me_ to do that. But I'll help him in any way that I can."

"It will be different, this time," Betty said. "With the Lowardians, it wasn't quite so personal."

Both women shivered a little.

**RSVP**

"If Ron's going to open his own restaurant," Hope said, "maybe we should have Feudor give him a call."

"Maybe he'll want to hire a lounge act," Marcella mused. "A singer with an accompanist."

"Maybe he'll offer Mediterranean cuisine," Crystal enthused. "With belly dancers!"

"Do you give lessons?" asked Maggie, one of the old Mad Dog alternates.

Linda, the other alternate, leaned in. "I could so get into that!"

Crystal nodded and began handing out cards.

"What's this rumor I heard about Ron getting married?"

"Yeah, I heard she was a Japanese national who died in the earthquake."

"Wow! Stoppable married!"

"Yeah, who would've thought he'd be the first!"

"And now, he's not only rich, an international hero, _and_ a hottie…he's also got…_experience!_"

"Lots of it!"

"Tons!"

"A lot more than those second-date romeos behind the bleachers!"

"And more, even, than those jocks in the back seats of their sports cars!"

There was a collective sigh.

"Come on, girls!" Hope scolded, "This is no way to talk about the guy who just lost his wife _and_ his parents!"

There was a moment of chagrinned silence.

"Has anyone heard back from Officer Hobble?" Tara asked suddenly. "I mean, how weird is that? Jessie and Liz just up and disappearing in the middle of the semester!"

Everyone looked at each other.

"Bonnie…"

The former cheerleaders co-captain turned and found Amelia at her elbow.

"Got a minute?" the former Middleton beauty queen inclined her head toward a quieter part of the party area.

"Sure, A." She followed with a sense of foreboding.

**RSVP**

"Just look over my sketches and the pages I tore out of all those catalogs," Ron said into his cell phone. "Cross out what you don't like, circle what you do. I should be back in a couple of hours and we can talk about the layout of your, Hana's, and my rooms so that she and you both have the comfort, access, and security that you need. I'd like you to sit in on the next meeting with the architect so be thinking of any questions relating to your needs, Yoshi. Okay?"

He put his hand over his free ear to block the sounds of the music and the crowd below and pressed the phone more tightly to his other ear. "No. No need to thank me! Nothing is more important to me than my sister, Ms. Kyoko. Which means that your comfort, security, and happiness are also paramount. Anything I can do—dinner? Well. Yes. You're right, we both have to eat—sure—it would be more efficient, time-wise, to combine the two. Shall I pick something up—really? Well, I haven't had a home-cooked meal, Japanese or otherwise, since…" His voiced faded off and his face fell as he recalled his last, home-cooked meal in Japan.

The voice on the other end of the call jerked him back to the present. "What? Oh…uh…no…everything's fine. It's just...distracting here with all of the people and…stuff…listen. I've got some people standing here waiting to talk to me so I'll call you once I'm on my way back to the hotel…thanks…bye…"

Ron tucked his phone back into his pocket, leaned against the catwalk railing, and bowed his head. You could only put the process of grieving on hold for short periods of time, he reminded himself. Eventually it was going to demand your attention once more and carry you along until the process reached the next stage. You couldn't stop it, avoid it, rush it, or take any short cuts along the way. It was a process that would have its way until it was done.

And there was no telling when that would be.

After a long moment he opened his eyes and gazed down at the gathering of his friends and former classmates on the floor below the catwalk.

"Betty's not happy."

He looked up and over at Shego who was leaning on the railing, next to him.

He should have sensed, if not heard, her approach. The fact that he hadn't meant he was either very distracted or that the meld had created a blind spot that she could exploit.

"She doesn't like being a twenty-five year-old hottie?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No. _I_ don't like that she's a twenty-five year-old hottie. Or the Possible girls, either, for that matter," Shego added with a smirk. "There's only room for one twenty-five year-old hottie around here and that's me."

"What about Vivian?"

"Dammit!" the former villainess swore with a smile. She gave him a sideways look. "So, you're not completely oblivious."

He looked back down. "No. It's just not important to me right now."

"Right now," Shego echoed. "Too soon…"

Ron sighed. "Sheila…My parents have just died. I haven't had time to properly grieve. And they were murdered by a villain who is still out there. Who probably still wishes to do harm to my little sister, possibly my friends, and certainly myself. My wife is barely a month gone and she was carrying our daughter when the wave came and took her. Do you honestly think I'm even capable of falling in love right now? If ever?"

Shego looked down. "Yeah. Too soon. I get that. But the black girl—"

"Monique."

"Monique—she's special to you. You're gonna save her—"

"She took a bullet for me."

Shego shook her head. "I took a _building_ for you. Stood there with you when I could have saved myself—"

"I told you to leave me."

"But I stayed. And I did it, knowing what I was doing. That girl down there was standing in the other room and happened to get in the way of a stray bullet that she didn't see coming. Not the same thing."

"I owe her something."

"Accident. And you paid her hospital bills. Threw her a surprise party. And are giving her free room and board. I'd say _she_ owes _you_ something—not that I want to go there…"

"Do you want me to throw you a surprise party?"

"Jeez, Stoppable: I'm not saying you owe me anything. Just pointing out that you care about that girl down there."

"She's a friend."

"I get that. I surely do. What I want to know is: am I a friend, too?"

"I offered to throw you a surprise party."

"What about the free room and board?"

"As long as you're my Security Chief you'll bunk with me."

"I thought Doctor Blondie was your security chief now. And define 'bunk with me'."

"I've asked Dr. Porter to help me with my security tech. I know that Dr. Director has tasked you with my security details for the moment. If you're interested in extending that assignment, you'd live here and we could discuss compensation."

"I though that's what I was doing when I said: 'define bunk with me'."

"You'll have your own quarters."

She cocked an eyebrow.

"That means your own bed," he qualified.

"Okay, Ron; it's been fun messin' with ya but, you wanna talk business? Let's talk business. Betty's in a quandary because she had big plans for you and you look like you're making your move to go independent. Kimmie—the original one—is still out of the picture, though who knows what Mommy's capable of? Betts knows that I won't be a company tool for her and the best she can expect from me is an independent contractor—heavy on the 'independent'.

"If you're asking me to jump ship be _your_ tool, I need to know what kind of tool we're talking about, here. You used the title 'Security Chief' but, as I see it, you need protecting about as much as Superman needs a bulletproof vest."

Ron stared off into the crowd below. _Someone was_—he lost the thought. Returning to the conversation: "Okay. Let's say I don't need a babysitter. I still have a sister. And friends. Anyone who works here or stays here could become a target—"

Shego held up her hand. "Your sister already has a bodyguard."

"I haven't seen her files."

"Well, I have. She's good. A hell of a lot better, I'd say, than you can hire off the black market. As for the rest? Let's get one thing straight." She hesitated, trying to choose her words more carefully. "I'd take a bullet for you, Stoppable. I wouldn't take a spit-wad for anyone else."

Ron nodded. "Still the independent contractor."

"You know me. That's how I roll. You want me to run your security set-up? I'll do that. Once it's up and running? Maybe I'll stick around and see if hanging around you provides a little excitement. You need protection for your peeps? I can hook you up with the best. But if you want me in deep and committed, I need a better incentive than money."

Ron looked down over the crowd, again. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Promise me you'll be totally honest?"

"Uh, yes…"

"Was _The Bodyguard_ movie on cable last night?"

"Aaarrrgh! Stoppable!"

**RSVP**

The Uptopian wasn't ready to interact with Earthians who might know The Target personally so the insertion into the warehouse was done using light-bending emitters that rendered the alien invisible. As long as there was no bodily contact, the agent was able to move among the people inside without detection.

Numerous conversations referenced The Target—"Ron," the assassin decided. Every opportunity to learn more about this "Ron" and think like an Earthian—understand their culture, customs, and way of processing information, would contribute to the mission's likelihood of success.

The more conversations that the alien eavesdropped on, however, the more enigmatic their friend or acquaintance or former education-associate seemed to become. The Ron was unique, it seemed, but in no way regarded as a god or war-leader.

He evinced no special powers at this gathering nor did he seek to lead the festivities or invoke an agenda. If the Utopian didn't know better, it might be assumed that this Ron was pretty much like everyone else.

Except for this one moment when, looking up at The Target on the catwalk overhead, it appeared as if "Ron" was aware of her presence…

**RSVP**

"Does Ron Ron know that Bon Bon has been running around telling everyone on campus that he's your boyfriend?"

Bonnie gaped at Amelia. "What?"

The Upperton Junior glanced at the U.U. Freshman and went back to admiring her nails. "I was just curious as to whether your fake boyfriend was aware that you've been pretending that the two of you are in a relationship?"

Bonnie felt her heart sink. It was bad enough that the cheerleaders had called her out on it. Now that Ron was actually back in town, she knew that it would only be a matter of time before her social subterfuge was unmasked to the Sorority—unless she could get Mr. Stoppable to be her boyfriend for real, that is.

But she had never considered that Ron might learn of her lies, himself. Oh God! If Amelia told him that she was pimping out his reputation to help her own social standing, it would not only lower her in his eyes, it might even destroy any chance she might have to turn the daydream into a reality!

Somewhere, off in the distance, it sounded like someone was yelling: "Aaarrrgh! Stoppable!"

"Are you threatening me?" Bonnie growled, hoping she might be able to negotiate some kind of deal where she could pay Amelia off to buy her silence.

"Why yes," the older girl said, "I am. Now I am not so crass as to think that I need to use any tricks to make Ronnie mine: Red Otter and Pink Sloth, we are destined to be together. In fact, I'm confident enough to enjoy a little competition. But, just in case you get the urge to fight dirty, I won't hesitate to let the school paper in on your dirty little secret. As well as your sorority sisters. And Ronnie, himself.

"So, no more lies. No more tricks. We'll let Ron decide that I'm the best girlfriend for him. Okay?"

Bonnie could not believe her good luck. Amelia wasn't going to rat her out! At least, not yet! She still had time to make Stoppable her boyfriend for real!

But, somehow, she felt less confident, now.

She couldn't trick him.

Oh, not because Amelia had just threatened to expose her if she did anything like that.

And not because she was coming to realize that Ron would not be easily tricked.

But because she wanted the real deal.

Not a trick. Or a trap. Or a cleverly worked-out approximation of a true relationship.

She wanted it to be pure.

Unsullied.

Uncomplicated.

She wanted…_her cell phone to stop vibrating away in her pocket as it had for the past two minutes!_

She pulled it out. "What?" she snapped.

**RSVP**

"Okay," Shego was saying. "We've agreed that it's too soon for you to even consider dating or a serious relationship. We've agreed that friends are important. And you say that you consider me a 'friend.' Now, given that you are under a great deal of stress and that your well-being comes under the heading of my job description—are you familiar with the concept of FWB?"

"FWB?" Ron echoed questioningly. "I don't think that's one of Monique's acronyms."

"Better not be," Ron's Chief of Security growled. "It means 'Friends With Benefits'. And I—oh what is it now?" she groused as a piercing cry sliced through the noise below.

"_Kidnapped?_" Bonnie shrieked at her phone.

* * *

_**ABOUT THE TITLE: The chapter title, "Party of the First Part," is a legal term often used in a written contract to identify one of the people entering into the agreement. This chapter marks the beginning of a number of changes in relationships—professional and personal as they relate to Ron.**_

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**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 36**

_CajunBear73 9/11/11 . chapter 36_

We interrupt this impending catfight and multitude of women scorned event of massive proportions to freak out so many onsite...

**_Just hold on to what I told you back at the beginning…though there will be some darker days ahead before we're done. And scorned? I think only Shego's feeling a bit of rejection…for now (take that either way) and the freak-out seems mostly positive (ya pervs!). R~13_**

* * *

_Grin-Grin 9/11/11 . chapter 36_

I've been stalking this story from the beginning. . . And it's awesomeness distilled.

This is one of the few Ron-centric stories that is actually updated regularly. . . And we love you for it.

Quick question though. . . Adrena Lynn, where?

I have an idea, though; but I'm not going to post it here.

But I'd like to see her here, if she's not there already *nudge* *nudge* *wink* *wink*

**_Thanks for the complement and, as promised in the beginning, most, if not all, Kim Possible characters of any importance will either make an appearance or be referenced by the time we are done. As for Adrena Lynn? I know what you're thinking. All that I will say is that you will meet her soon enough… R~13 _**

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_dude 9/12/11 . chapter 36_

great story i think ron shouldnt be in a relationship i mean he had his heart broken by syntho kim and yori used that to her advantage but that ended in tragedy and with all the other horrible things that have happened it likely his heart would need a long time to heal

**_Yeah, I think we're simpatico here but I think we'll eventually see Ron re-enter the relationship pool at some point—if for no other reason he gets hogtied and thrown in. In the meantime, help me convince these other guys that Ron just isn't ready yet… R~13_**

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_Feudor 9/12/11 . chapter 36_

Ah, old Feudor gets a mention again! Honoured!

I'm really liking this story, and looking forward to more. I would of course second those that do not want it to turn silly; though I'm not sure what "silly" would entail. Every female character jumping into bed with Ron simultaneously, and living happily ever after would be a bit of a let-down. On the other hand, I can't really decide which of the ladies it would be OK to disappoint.

**_I'm with you _****Feudor****_; I don't want to disappoint any of them, either. We'll just have to wait and see how this plays out. By the way, I'll have a link up shortly to sell "Team Shego" and "Team Kim" shirts. ;-) R~13_**

* * *

_readerjunkie 9/13/11 . chapter 36_

Nice job on the new chapter,can't wait for a new post

**_Hi _****readerjunkie****_, as I said above, all of your responses helped me hurry this one out but I can't promise when the next one will appear. R~13_**

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_DarianMograin 9/13/11 . chapter 36_

A nice, lighthearted, transition chapter before the action peaks up again. We get to see some of Ron's plans for the future. It was sweet to see that he is always looking out for those he cares about. I'm not sure where you are going with the kidnapped sisters idea. I cannot see Bonnie really caring if her bitchy sisters are in danger. Also Junior is not the sharpest knife in the drawer and his plans haven't always gone through.

Keep up the great work.

_**Your**_**_ observations on Ron's caring and sweetness underscores the path of "love" that Ron was told he would need to open himself to. I know some readers were hoping for something a little more…"sweaty" (ya pervs!) but we'll just have to wait and see. At least you won't have to wait past the next chapter for the answers to your questions about Bonnie and Junior. R~13_**

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_pbow 9/13/11 . chapter 36_

You beat me to it. I thought I had an original idea about Ron backing Monique's career as a designer. Although my concept includes Bonnie and Kim. (My story is still being written; I like to get the whole thing down befor posting.)

I wonder if Mrs. Dr. P's rejuvination healed her injured hand since it helped with Dr Director's eye. That would be a nice little plot twist in itself.

If you're interested, I still vote for Kim and Ron ending up together. That's just the way I usually groove.

Keep up the great work, I eagerly await the next chappy.

Live Large,

pbow

**_The issue of the hand will eventually be raised but Anne's got bigger problems blocking her surgical fitness at the moment. And I'm always interested in who my readers see as the ship of choice for this story (unfortunately, I'm sure that—in the end—I won't please everybody). _**

**_If there's one thing I've learned (in my college lit courses and as a reader and a writer), there's hardly any new ideas out there that somebody hasn't taken a run at; the huge difference lies in how they're executed. Write away, my friend; I'm sure your tale will be very different. And excellent! R~13_**

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_Sentinel103 2/29/12 . chapter 36_

Well that was a cliffie...I know about them, I've written one or two.

So we have lots of little deals going on, but I wanna get back to Moma Lipsky the batcrap crazy woman...we could have some real fun with her...

Looks like some things were settling down until Bonnie's remark, so who does she care about? Tara.

Larry (Sentinel 103)

**_Tara? Sorry, _****Larry****_: about as far from Tara as you can get x 2! And fear not: Mama Lipsky will eventually return. R~13_**

* * *

_Uberscribbler 12/15/12 . chapter 36_

I'm still decompressing from The Critical Revelations of the previous chapter, and so emotionally have more in common with a balloon whose gas has finally leaked out than a live wire. Thus the barrage of revelations in *this* chapter hit with rather more muted effect. None of it feels quite as Critical as last one, but close to it.

If Disney had ever tried to write to this level of complexity and realism, it might well have triggered the Arab Spring in Florida. Just sayin'.

So who was kidnapped now and how much larger will the body count grow, I wonder. That's not a pick and not a call for the violence to be toned down in light of yesterday's events; quite the reverse, as the author continues to treat it all appropriately. Just please don't keep us waiting too long here. Its proving an engaging ride.

**Uberscribbler****_: Glad you've regained your equilibrium. Some answers are just ahead for you. R~13_**

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_The Question23 7/14/13 . chapter 36_

No Drakken! No! You had a good thing going at GJ and now your gonna toss it all away!

**_Maybe if you smacked him on the nose with a rolled up newspaper...naw, Drewbie's not gonna break his pattern of ill-conceived ventures now. R~13_**

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_Some Dude 8/27/13 . chapter 36 _

I'm guessing she finally found out about her sisters... at least I hope that's the case.

**_Yep, just found out that both all the brains and all the looks got snatched away... (smirk) R~13_**

* * *

_sakura89luis chapter 36 . 7/20/14_

FWB...hell yeah!

_**OMG! R~13**_

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_Trey of the rebellion chapter 36 . 7/21/14_

I really enjoy this story, it's very entertaining.

_**Thank you, Trey; glad it's not worn out its welcome, yet. R~13**_

* * *

_Guest chapter 36 . 7/21/14_

Loved the chapter can't wait for the next one

_**Well, since you're so enthusiastic (and I've gotten several reviews for this chapter) I'll get the next one up in just a few minutes! R~13**_

* * *

_BartWLewis chapter 36 . 7/22/14_

Shego just suggested being friends with benifits, and Bonnie's sisters were kidnapped. Nice and nice.

_**Careful, Bart: you should know by now that I'm entirely capable of making Bonnie's sisters turn out to be the benefits! LOL R~13**_

* * *

_PyroNagus chapter 36 . 10/1/14_

Yet you still don't answer my question. XD Not that I'm expecting you to. I just thinking you should give politics a try, better pay, huh? What do you say? ;)

_**Erm...which question?**_

Oh god please not her! Anyone but miss Hatchet. Be it Jacqueline the ripper(ette) to Fiona Kruger, they still cannot scale up to how horrible she can be. Please delete this story and burn your computer... Unless if you want a real life recap of the movie 'Fear'.

_**Fear not...for now...**_

Also I refrain from revealing more clues to 'that one gal' preventing spoilers. You know just in case I'm right. Ahh Gawd, why the hell do you keep teasing me? Sitting there knowing every single plot twist. Ya, just keep askin me 'which one'. You'll see retribution one day. Mark my words lakish-san. Mark my words.

_**Ah well, the answers lie ahead...already reposted...keep reading. R~13**_


	37. A Wealth of Possibilities

**Required Disclaimer:** _Fan Fiction. Not for Profit of any kind. Author has no rights to the source material. Just havin' a little fun… _

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Seven: A Wealth of Possibilities**

The DVD had been delivered in a plain brown wrapper sometime during the night and wasn't discovered by Mrs. Rockwaller until she checked the mailbox later that morning.

After calling her husband and the police—who said that the kidnapping was out of their jurisdiction…and the FBI who said that the apparent location made it an international crime and outside of _their_ jurisdiction—Global Justice was contacted.

And that's when her mother finally decided to call Bonnie.

Betty and Ron started the DVD over again and began studying the images on a slow, frame-by-frame scan while Mrs. Rockwaller went to mix her and her husband another drink and Bonnie excused herself to go upstairs.

"Well, it's obviously a tropical island," Ron observed, "but is it the same tropical island where they're demanding the money drop?"

"Does it matter?" Mr. Rockwaller groaned. "Five million dollars each! Even if I had a month to liquidate all of my assets at the most favorable rates, I wouldn't be able to ransom even one of my daughters, much less two."

"Hmmm," Dr. Director pondered. "A professional would have access to that kind of information in the planning stage of the crime. So we're either dealing with some rank amateurs or the Rockwallers have something else they'll pretend to renegotiate for…"

"Or it's a trap," Ron finished.

"That doesn't narrow down our list of suspects much," Betty said. "The list of international criminals and terrorists who bear GJ serious grudges is old and long."

"If the trap is for Global Justice."

"You're thinking…?"

"Well…me," Ron answered. "This is a kidnapping. Not the sort of operational response where fifty commandos storm the beach and can be seen coming from miles away. A couple of low-key operatives sneaking in the back door would be far more effective. Just the sort of thing I've done dozens of times before—"

"You and Kim Possible," Betty amended.

Ron shrugged. "If you say so. Anyway, Bonnie is my friend—"

"Boy, your memory really has been tampered with!"

He sighed. "I know she and I have a checkered past. But here, now, in the present, she's acted as my friend, and until she gives me reason to think otherwise, I'll consider her such. If this is a trap, it's as likely as not that they're counting on my friendship with Bonnie to guarantee my involvement."

"So the smart thing to do is for you to stay here and let Global Justice handle this one."

He shook his head. "If I was invested in doing what you characterize as the 'smart thing,' I wouldn't have spent the last five or six years running around the globe on school nights to help other people in trouble. I'd like to think I've got a pretty good feel for this stuff by now."

"Well, you're not going in alone," Betty countered.

"He won't be," Bonnie stated as she came back down the stairs. She was wearing a pair of khaki hip huggers and a black top, cropped to bare her torso. "I'm going with him. I'll have his back."

Now it was Betty's turn to shake her head. "I'm sorry, Miss Rockwaller, but you have neither the experience nor the qualifications for field operations."

"The hell I don't," she snapped. "Never mind that you've been trying to recruit me for your _Possibilities Project_; I went on a mission with Kim a couple of years ago and we were successful even though we were handicapped by being stuck together at the time. And then there was the time when—"

"You met Junior," Ron said, finishing her sentence.

"Junior!" Bonnie exclaimed.

"That's what I said," Ron said.

"Junior?" she shrieked.

This time Ron turned, following Bonnie's line of sight to her front door.

It was open. And, standing in its frame was Señor Senior Junior.

"Bonnie, my love!" he exclaimed. "I came as soon as I heard! How may I be of service in your time of great emotional need?"

"You could loan her ten million dollars," Ron suggested as the top-heavy Spaniard rushed past to gather his ex-girlfriend into his ridiculously muscular arms.

Ron expected the spoiled playboy to utterly ignore him but, to his surprise, Junior turned back toward him and regarded Ron with an expression of ardent admiration.

"Ah! You are that Ron-person whose last name seems to escape me! You are here to help with my Bonita! You and the Kim Possible are going to try and rescue her sisters! I will join with you and together we will bring them home!"

To say that everyone else was stunned by Junior's unexpected appearance—and even more unexpected announcement—would be an understatement. In the silence that followed he got a better look at the young woman he was embracing. "Bonnie, my sweet; why are _you_ dressed like the Kim Possible?"

"Because _I'm_ going with Ron to rescue my sisters," she said, pushing herself out of his arms. "Kim's not available for this mission."

"Oh yes she is!" exclaimed a new voice.

**RSVP**

Kyoko Yoshiko was in a foul mood.

Ron Stoppable was headed out on a mission while she was stuck back at the hotel, babysitting a toddler. A rather remarkable toddler, considering, but _still_ a toddler.

And still _babysitting._

She had had quite enough of that on her previous assignment when she was undercover as Mr. Nakasumi's personal assistant.

She was itching for more action.

More like _aching!_

And the thought of Ron Stoppable going into danger without adequate back up upset her more than she expected.

Both Ron and Betty had been adamant, however: her mission was to safeguard Hana. So she would stay back at the hotel while their new quarters were under construction.

Putting her little charge down for a nap, the tall Asian woman began moving the furniture around in the room to create a larger, open area.

**RSVP**

Dressed only in her bra and panties, Dr. Vivian Porter, moved about the open area of her room with a speed and intensity that was both challenging and invigorating.

While she was a regular practitioner of _Muay Thai_, the katas that she was attempting to emulate were unfamiliar and she was mirroring them in real time as she tried to focus on the screen of her laptop.

Although Global Justice had believed themselves to be discrete in installing the pin-cams of the various rooms of the Bilkmore's penthouse suite, Dr. Porter had discovered their transmit frequency as she set up her wireless connection to her computers back at the Middleton Space Agency. From there, it had been no big job to hack into the security network and pull up any of the camera feeds.

As she was doing right now.

As she watched Hana's bodyguard/nanny seemingly dance through a veritable ballet of kicks, spins, punches, and blocks on her laptop screen, she attempted to match the GJ agent, move for move.

Vivian was in good shape—better than most young women in their early to mid-twenties. While there were no official or standardized levels—"belts"—in the combat sport from Thailand, her instructor had told her that she could compete against most practitioners in the ring if she wanted.

But that hadn't interested her.

Until now.

She was beginning to think that there might come an occasion where Ron Stoppable could use her talents in the field. Not just her scientific acumen but her martial arts skills, as well. She wanted to be ready if and when that day came.

Also, it might be good to have the measure of any competition at home should the situation arise. She rewound the feed of Yoshi's katas and renewed her study of the Japanese woman.

**RSVP**

Hope warily circled Marcella hoping that she wouldn't make a fool of herself in her uncle's dojo.

She had worked for him weekends and summers since she was ten and was now proficient in a variety of styles: Karate, Kung Fu, Silat, Taekwando... She had spent the last four years working variants of each into her studies of _Jun Fan Jeet Kune Do_ thanks to the eclectic moves she was learning as a Middleton Mad Dog Cheerleader. Normally, she could kick anyone's butt in the dojo—except her uncle's, of course. Although another year or two…

Unfortunately, Marcella didn't train at her uncle's dojo and didn't practice any of the Asian martial arts. She had an aunt who had married a former _Spetsnaz _officer who had introduced Hope's friend to the Russian schools of Sambo and Systema.

Shortly after the revelation that Bonnie's sisters had been kidnapped and shortly before the party had broken up, they had compared notes about their training and expertise in the martial arts and whether they might have a place in the Global Justice _Possibilities Project_.

Which had led to this little contest at her uncle's dojo.

Hope guessed that her training and experience well outweighed Marcella's. But she also knew that she tended to lack Marcella's aggressive streak and the Russian forms were a big unknown to her at this point.

Marcella ducked a sudden punch, rolled on the mat and sprung back up with a devilish grin.

_What?_

Marcella had not tied her obi-belt properly and the lapels of her uwa-gi were gaping open.

_OMG, she wasn't wearing a sports bra!_

Hope never saw the return punch coming.

**RSVP**

Dr. Drakken had been driving around the Colorado foothills for hours, leaving the gravel and then the dirt roads behind, finally committed to off-road four-wheeling in search of one of his old lairs.

There were many problems with his search. Most of his lairs had been confiscated by Global Justice following the Lowardian invasion and Drakken's renunciation of his old ways. Shego had kept one of the newer lairs for her own, personal use and had changed the security codes so he couldn't get in. The one he was looking for was extremely remote and he hadn't been there in years so his memory (such as it was in even the best of circumstances) was further undermined by the passage of a decade and at least a dozen other "addresses" since then. Since Shego was his navigator and map reader, he was completely "at sea" driving around solo.

And, of course, there was the fact that he was off-road, four-wheeling, in an antiquated, rear-axel sedan with bad shocks and a broken spring.

By the time he found a familiar landmark the car had all but given up the ghost. Drakken got out and walked the last two miles, all the while muttering imprecations and curses with his former partner's name liberally sprinkled throughout.

**RSVP**

They sat through the end credits of the movie as the rest of the audience got up and left the theater. It was only when the lights came up that the elderly couple rose from their seats and made their way to the lobby.

The theater workers were all young. No one took any notice of the grey-haired woman and the silver-haired man who paused before the giant poster of _The Ferret Rises_ featuring the costumed visage of the actor from the _Bricks of Fury_ franchise.

"Punks…" the old man muttered under his breath.

The woman laid a hand on his arm. "Our time has passed," she told him gently. "A new generation comes along and retells the old stories in their language and style."

"You call blowing everything up and spraying thousands of bullets 'style'," he groused. "In my day, we _captured_ the bad guys and brought them to justice." He smacked his right hand into his wrinkled left palm. "And we did it without destroying acres of real estate."

"You miss it, don't you?"

He flashed her a wry grin. "What? The psychosis when I thought I really was The Fearless Ferret? Or the years when my acting career was on fire?" He shook his head. And then continued thoughtfully. "I miss my youth. Oh, not the strength and vitality—well, yes, I miss that, too. But I miss the innocence of that time. The blacks and whites without all the shades of grey. It was a simpler time."

"But no less dangerous," his companion noted. "And trust me, I would know."

He patted her arm, in turn. "I know you do. I feel like such a pretender next to you." He looked down. "I miss being relevant."

She sighed. "I know what you mean. The only way to make a difference at our ages seems to be through others. If they'll let us. My sons are too old and too full of their own intellect to imagine that I still might know more than them. And my grandchildren are getting to the age when grandmothers are nice old ladies who have no relevance to their lives."

"Yes," her companion nodded. "But I met a young man a couple of years back who actually made me feel young again. Called himself a Sunshine Spreader. Truth be told, I needed all of the sunshine I could get back then. He probably saved my life. And yet, he was the one who was grateful to me…"

"Ferret Fan?" she asked with a smirk.

"Yes, well, that's beside the point. He really was a ray of sunshine—or Ronshine, as he liked to say."

The old woman blinked. "You're not talking about Ron Stoppable are you? He's my granddaughter's partner in the world-saving business!"

"I don't know about that but he actually put on my Ferret costume a few times and did a decent job at fighting crime. Of course, that was before he stepped up and…well…you know…"

"Saved the world? Oh Timothy, Ronald was in a class all his own before that. But even my Kimberly couldn't see it until it was almost too late." She looked down but he could see that her eyes were suddenly wet with tears.

"Look, Nan," he said, caressing her cheek and lifting her face to his. "I know Florida is great and you've made friends here but why don't you come back to Colorado with me. That's where your family is. And that's where you should be right now!"

She shook her head slowly and produced a lace handkerchief to dab at her eyes. "I'd just be underfoot."

"Not if you stayed with me," he said softly.

"With you?"

"Why not? I live in this huge mansion all by myself. I have more room—and more rooms—than I know what to do with. And, Nan…" He paused. And when he spoke again there was a quiver in his voice.

"I'm lonely."

**RSVP**

"T-two Kim Possibles? I am not believing my eyes," Junior moaned.

He wasn't the only one: standing just inside the doorway were two redheaded Possible women in traditional KP mission garb.

"Just one, Junior," Anne Possible explained. Gesturing to her companion she said: "Allow me to introduce my cousin Joss Possible."

"Just Possible?" Junior said, sounding bewildered—a somewhat familiar condition for him.

"We heard the chatter on the Global Justice communication bands," Joss said, stepping forward. "Aun—_and__—_er—_Kim_ here decided that we should git here as soon as we could for the mission briefing…"

"So what's the sitch?" Anne demanded, adopting a take-charge tone.

"I was just telling Miss Rockwaller that this was a Global Justice operation and that she wasn't going," Betty said, trying to figure out how to address the problem of two more amateurs entering the mix.

"Oh, no!" Bonnie planted her fists on her hips. "You can't stop _me_ from going and let _them!_"

"Bon Bon," Junior pleaded, "perhaps you should let the Kim and the Ron persons handle this! It is what they do and they have been doing it many times for the years. She is even—" his eyes darted back to the twenty-five year-old figure of Anne Possible. "—looking more mature and capable, now." He scratched his head. "Did she have the growth spurt or something?"

Joss cleared her throat. "Uh, Dr. Director? You asked me and some others who had even less field experience to try out fer your Possibilities Project. I've been trainin' and my—uh—_cousin_, here, helped me wipe the mats with your trainers. I think the Possible motto remains in effect: she—thet is, _we_—kin do anything!"

Betty looked at Ron with _help me!_ written all over her face.

"You know," he said after a moment's pause, "if you're in charge and Shego tags along, I'm sure it would be safe enough for—uh—_Kim_, here, to take Joss and Bonnie under her wings and show them the ropes…" He winked at Joss who felt a warm, syrupy feeling slide through her (bare) stomach.

"Rooooon," Anne whined, "why are you splitting up The Team? We've always worked together!"

"Well, uh…" he rubbed the back of his neck and all of the ladies seemed to lean in to catch his answer. "We shouldn't be selfish. It's not just you and me on this mission but some new, potential talents that would benefit from us mentoring them in separate groups."

"But…but…" Anne thrust her lower lip out and looked at Ron out of the corner of her big blue eyes.

The air grew thick with expectation.

"Um…what are you doing?" Ron asked after a moment.

Anne was crestfallen. "The puppy-dog pout! It didn't _work!_ Why doesn't the puppy-dog pout _work_ any more?"

"Maybe because we're not kids, any more," Ron answered with a slow smile. "Hey…you know what?"

"What?" all of the women in the room asked.

Ron shot the rest of them a _stay-out-of-it_ look. "Now that we're grown up and not kids any more, let's start some new traditions. Make a break with the old."

"Like what, Ronnie?"

"Like not calling me Ronnie any more."

"What should I call you?"

"Just Ron. It's more grown up. You know how Shego used to get under your skin by calling you Kimmie?"

"Yeah. So I should just be Kim. Right?"

"Welllll…"

"What?"

"Here's something I've been thinking about and I really, really like it." One again he shot the others a warning look. "In fact, I think it's kind of sexy…"

"What? What?" Kim's mother asked breathlessly.

"I've always been fond of your middle name, Kimberly Ann Possible. Except, I never get to say it unless I use your first and last names on either side of it. I'd like to start calling you…Ann."

"Ann?"

He nodded, shooting glances at everyone else in the room. "Yes. Ann. Or I could sometimes call you 'A.P.'"

"I-I don't—"

"Oh!" Joss exclaimed, finally getting where Ron was headed with this. "That is so cool!" She grabbed her aunt's hands. "Ann! Can I call you that, too? It makes you seem more grown up! Isn't that right, Dr. Director?"

"What? Oh yes. Yes! Ann! Of course! That's…brilliant! Bonnie?"

The brunette folded her arms across her chest. "Yeah. Ann. Got it."

"I don't know…" Anne was waffling.

"Well, I think it makes you seem more grown up. More…sexy…" Ron said.

"You know, it must be true," Junior remarked. "She seems much more grown up and with the breasts and such." He gestured.

Bonnie shot him a look. "_Really?_ You're talking about another woman's breasts in front of me?"

"I apologize, my sweet. Your breasts are magnificent, as always—"

"And _now_ you're talking about _my_ breasts in front of my _parents!_"

"—it is just that the Kimberly Ann Possible breasts have always been so small and pointy…like the school hats I used to have to wear…and now they are so…so…"

Anne glared at Bonnie. "Is your boyfriend saying my breasts are 'so-so'?"

"Not at al—" was all that Junior was able to get out as Bonnie clapped a hand over his mouth.

"_Not_ my boyfriend any more, _Ann!_" Bonnie snarled as Joss forced her way into the middle of the circle.

"Can we please stop talking about breasts!" she demanded with her hands on her hips, her legs planted apart and her chest defiantly thrust out—calling attention to the fact that, on the subject of bosoms, she was well out in front of everyone else.

"I agree," Ron said, stepping next to Anne and whispering in her ear: "I like calling you Ann. I think Bonnie hates it. Two birds with one stone?"

"I…agree," "Ann(e) said softly.

**RSVP**

He couldn't tell if someone had changed the security combination or he had simply forgotten the codes from so long ago.

In any event, the lair was no longer "abandoned." The underground facilities were powered up and humming away according to the readings on the camouflaged power junction box a few meters away. He would just have to wait until whoever had set up housekeeping decided to go in or out.

Dr. Drakken set about gathering brush to crawl into as a windbreak and hoped it wouldn't be too long a wait. The nights could turned very cold up in the mountains even in late Spring…

**RSVP**

Shego set the hovercraft down on the Rockwaller front lawn and then gaped as Ron and Betty emerged from the house followed by Bonnie, Anne, and Joss, the last three dressed in black cropped-tops and khaki pants. As soon as they were all aboard, she steered for the airport, casting _what-the-hell_ looks at Ron every time she could catch his eye.

In the mean time, Bonnie fumed over the increased size of the mission force. She had hoped to prove herself a worthy partner in Ron's eyes by assisting in the rescue of her sisters. Spending time alone with him on a tropical island might have produced some other opportunities as well. But then Junior had turned up, followed by the Possible girls! And Bitch Betty was going to take the lead. Honestly, could it get any worse?

Junior sat in the back, furiously texting on his cell phone: **Slight change of plans. I will have a brunette girl next to me at all times. She is not to be harmed. Tell your men to shoot around her just as they are to shoot around me. All others are expendable. If you can capture a Kim Possible, fine. Otherwise, she or they is to be killed along with everyone else, including the hostages. Especially the Ron person. Will text further information when we are closer. **

**SSJr.**

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**ABOUT THE TITLE: "A Wealth of Possibilities" is a subtle (or maybe not-so-subtle) reference to the two Possible ladies in the mix, here.**

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**Authors/Notes:**

**_I sometimes worry that I'm writing Ron as OOC in his new levels of competency. That being said, let me lay out again the reasons that I feel justified in the new-and-improved Ron Stoppable._**

**_1) The four seasons of Kim Possible were really an arc of growth and development for Ron. I'm not sure how much Kim changed from the beginning to the "end" but along the way we discovered hidden depths in Ron: his cooking talents, multi-talented talent show winner, ability to communicate with animals, the Ron factor, master mask maker, Zorpox, master of the mystical monkey power, and The Chosen One—culminating in him saving Kim and the planet in the final episode._**

**_2) Passing through the crucible in the first three chapters, the attack of syntho-kim, the murder of Rufus, marrying Yori, and again being put to the test with her death and the aftermath of the quake and tsunami in Japan have tempered him and grown him up in a year in ways that others might take a decade or more to catch up in._**

**_3) The attempts on his life and the deaths of his parents, yet another stage in that growing up process._**

**_4) And, finally, while Ron has learned much from playing "second banana" to Kim over the years and deferring to her Type-A personality, now that she's "gone" he has to (and is _****_allowed_****_ to) step up and put that training (unconscious as it may be) to good use, now._**

**_So, given the timeline and subsequent events, I can justify—intellectually—this more mature and focused Ron. But does it work "emotionally"?_**

**_What say you, dear readers?_**

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**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 37**

_**Thank you for your reviews and responses, especially the "RSVP Regulars." 'Twould be nice to hear from the silent majority out there—or is "majority" a wishful thought?**_

_EnterpriseCV-6 9/14/11 . chapter 37_

I would KILL SSJ right about NOW I had figured he was a rat he deserves to DIE also I hope somebody sees this and kicks his sorry ass

_**I take it as a complement that my story has aroused so much passion in you! R~13**_

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_critic 9/14/11 . chapter 37_

It's not that it's becoming unsustainable or going over the top, it's that there are just too many bloody characters now. Which in some cases is fine but when they all share a single dimension i.e. going after Ron, it makes it more of the same and waters down all the other possibilities by 'oversaturating the market' to put it into business terms. I've already given up on trying to understand or even read about Crystal and one of the other cheerleaders because I simply couldn't keep track of more of the same. If there was significant differences or a notable subplot like with Drakken it would be a whole new ball game, but right now I'm skipping the occasional paragraph or section. That being said it's still a great story and easily one of the top two KP Fanfics that is being updated.

_**My first take on your phrase "bloody characters" was that there were too many people with violent agendas in the story. Then I interpreted it from the British euphemism to understand that you were emphasizing how the vast number of characters has watered down the overall storytelling. I'll concede the point: I've already taken a number of characters off the board and the plot is going to bring some of the others together in a more consolidated setting in future chapters. But, I'll throw out the question to the readership in general…**_

**_Which plot threads/characters would you like to see eliminated to streamline the story? (When I say "eliminate" I don't necessarily mean "kill off"—though I've used the option before and may use it again). And which plot threads/characters do you want to see brought to the fore? Remember, I've said from the beginning that reader input will influence parts of the story. R~13_**

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_Pavelius 9/15/11 . chapter 37_

Really, SSJ? "Shoot around me and the brunette!" ?... no wonder his father is so disappointed with him... high class retard on the lose..

Anyway, nice trick from Ron to bring back Ann(e)... at least in the name...

Lets see who has occupied Drakkens lair (my guess is Mastermind) and how the "rescue" will work out (i sense some disturbance in the force)...

Keep it up

Pavel

**_What kind of disturbance in the force? (Come to the Dark Side: we have cookies!) R~13_**

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_CajunBear73 9/15/11 . chapter 37_

Surprises all around here.

Methinks Drakken's found a site that GJ and Ron will be very interested in knowing about. That is if he isn't 'captured' or turned...

The mission to free Bonnie's sisters seems to have included a snake in the hen house...

And Ron seems to be staging things well with the women surrounding him. But for Shego and Bonnie.. Oh boy.

CB73

**_Let me know if you ever want to Beta…but I'm afraid you might need therapy before I'm done. ;-) R~13_**

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_Sentinel103 2/29/12 . chapter 37_

Boy is Junior sly or what...OK or what.

Something tells me that Ron has something up his sleeve. You know I wonder where he put that sword that seems to change shape all the time.

Larry (Sentinel 103)

**_I can confidently promise that the Lotus Blade will return down the road—though there will be some twists along the way… R~13_**

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_Uberscribbler 12/15/12 . chapter 37_

Um...what? Exactly when did Junior get this devious? Is Junior even capable of getting this devious?

Good interplay on getting Anne's name inserted back into the conversation. Clever old Ron.

So, what's next?

**_Another major revelation regarding SSJ awaits—but not right away. Look for it in RSVP II: The Two Powers! R~13_**

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_Some Dude 8/29/13 . chapter 37 _

This is a disaster waiting to happen...

**_Disaster? Yes. Waiting? Not so much. ;-) R~13_**

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_BartWLewis chapter 37 . 7/23/14_

Ron, Shego, Ann, Joss and Bonnie sre going to save her sister, while Junior is going to be a punk and try to stop them...sounds about right.

_**It could be worse: he could be attacking them with karaoke! R~13**_

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_PyroNagus chapter 37 . 10/1/14_

Ahh, senior senior junior. Man, throughout the chap I've have had rollercoaster-ish feelings towards him. Firstly when he made his poetic entry just happening to know of the kidnapping, I was like "Aghh dude, really? You know what? Hands up, you're under arrest just because I feel like it." Then, he gladly accepted the help from everyone. Which stumped me. Why would he do that? Doesn't he know a hostage sitch is better when it's simple? Heh, maybe he had nothing to do with it. Then he tried to help out with the Ann issue(of cource he messed it up) at that moment I was like "Aww, he's just trying to help out." BUT THEN he texted the orders to just casually kill off almost everyone. At first I was gonna be angry at him but then I thought "I feel sorry for you kid, YOU JUST MADE YOUR FRICKIN DEATH WISH, dumbbutt. Even if you do make I through this, how can you possibly woo Bonnie after killing off half of her family and her friends? That being you don't even know about Bonnie's crush on Ron. I simply pity you."

_**Would it spoil things if I told you that Junior will finally find true love?**_

On another note I'm not sure if speed aging Joss makes that pairing morally legit with the more delicate readers we have here. She's still a kid in the mind so you know... Wait sec how was she before the accident?

_**Underage. And Anne is not...herself. Both are a moral conundrum in terms of where a relationship might go. Trust me, I'm well aware of the delicacy of the situation...**_

Granted, you have come up with some pretty creative solutions to make the pairings work. I.E. The timpus simia. Takes a lotta Witt to think of that particular solution. I'm impressed.

_**Hope you're still impressed by the end. R~13**_


	38. Flights of Fancy

**Required Disclaimer:** _Even though Disney no longer makes episodes of Kim Possible…and even though Disney has yet to release Kim Possible episodes on DVDs in their complete runs…and even though they don't seem inclined to do anything else with the Kim Possibleverse…it is still their property and this story and its author make no claims, monetary or intellectual, to the original source material. It's just amateur fan fiction, folks! _

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Eight: Flights of Fancy**

Señor Senior Junior had spent the better part of his life disappointing his father.

Even before the wealthy aristocrat had turned to criminal enterprise as a solution to his growing boredom and ennui, his son's dilettante lifestyle and pursuit of a career in the entertainment field had embarrassed the old man. Junior's subsequent failures as an international villain just compounded his father's disappointment.

Junior had always assumed that he would eventually succeed—at life, at achieving his own dreams, and in eventually making his sire proud of him.

But, one by one, Junior had seen his own dreams and goals crash and burn. As he passed the midpoint of his third decade, he harbored few illusions.

He would never be a pop sensation.

All of his ventures—from running a string of discotheques and nightclubs to being a TV or movie star had been embarrassing failures.

And now the clock was running out on the "Second Act" of his life.

He was too old to appeal to the audience demographic that had already rejected him over and over.

And now his father had cancer.

He had always thought that there would be enough time to find a way to make the old man happy and proud of him.

But that was only going to happen if he made a grand gesture and did it soon!

So it had to be something daring and grandiose.

It had to be something that turned a profit.

It didn't matter that the Seniors were rich enough to be complete wastrels for another five generations: a man has to prove that he can make more money than he spends. And he couldn't do it in such a way that his father was involved in any aspect: he had to do it himself and if there was any "partnering" to be involved, it had to be with someone successful and impressive.

Like this mysterious Mastermind.

He knew that the criminal overlord wanted to destroy Team Possible and had already brought considerable resources into the process of achieving that goal. The fact that the masked super-villain had yet to taste complete success meant that his own plans would make him famous throughout the criminal organizations around the world and, more importantly, impress his father.

But it was more than just that.

He had lost the one good thing in his life that had made him truly happy: Bonnie Rockwaller.

He had been attracted, of course, by her beauty. Being the heir to a vast fortune meant that Junior was always surrounded by beautiful women. They sought him out, made shameless advances, and even visited cosmetic surgeons to increase their "chances" of catching and holding his attention.

None of them held a candle to the "un-enhanced" Bonnie Rockwaller.

It wasn't just that she possessed a killer body or the face of an impish angel with exotic teal-colored eyes and a sensuous mouth. It was her passion and her adventurous spirit. Her drive for excellence…

Their time together was amazing—and all too brief.

The breakup had hit him hard.

He wept.

He couldn't eat, sleep.

There were days he couldn't find a reason to get out of bed.

And then there were the attempts to forget her through a string of meaningless affairs: actresses, models, even porn stars. Threesomes, foursomes, mass orgies.

Nothing worked.

He had her followed. Investigated. Profiled. The experts he hired suggested that perhaps he was too shallow, too boring for her.

They were wrong, of course.

But the reason for their breakup continued to elude his best efforts to solve this heartbreaking puzzle.

He finally confronted her one day, demanding the real reason for her abandoning him. In the tears and recriminations that followed she finally broke down and confessed that she was in love with someone else. That she had used him to try to forget this other man in the same way the he had cut a swath through a platoon of starlets and glamour models to ease the pain of her rejection.

"Who?" he had demanded. "Who is he?"

But she had merely hung her head as if ashamed and refused to answer.

It had taken more private detectives and hundreds of interviews, tapped phones, and computer spybots to ferret out the truth. His soul mate, the world's most perfect woman, was in love with Kim Possible's buffoonish sidekick! There could be no other explanation…

From that moment on, his course was clear: the Ron person would have to die!

He had met his nemesis in hand-to-hand combat before and he had no confidence in his own ability to eliminate his rival for Bonnie's affections mano-y-mano. So he hired a team of stone cold mercenaries to intercept Team Possible when they showed up to either deliver the ransom or attempt a rescue.

The idea of capturing either or both had evaporated pretty quickly when the mercs reviewed the history of their intended targets: their asking price went way up while their calculated odds of success went way down.

Besides, the burning jealousy in Junior's heart practically demanded a bloody end to the man who stood in the way of everything he wanted!

It was easy once the professionals explained that the kidnapped Rockwaller sisters would have to die, as well, or they'd be able to identify him as their abductor.

Junior thought he had come to terms with all of that over the past several weeks but now he was faced with another round of 'second thoughts' as he realized the object of his affection would be on the killing fields as well.

He desperately hoped that this would have a better outcome than any of his previous schemes that crossed paths with Team Possible.

**RSVP**

Crystal opened the door to her apartment and gazed at the trio of young women on her threshold.

"So you're really serious about this?" she asked her former Mad Dog cheer-mates.

"You offered," Maggie answered.

Linda and Tara both nodded.

"It was a party. I think I was a little buzzed," the molasses-colored girl clarified. "I didn't think you were serious."

"Yeah, I know: party talk," Linda agreed. "But here we are."

"Is it okay?" Tara asked. "I mean, if you don't want to—"

"Nonsense!" Crystal opened the door wide and gestured them in. "Always happy to add to the sisterhood! Help me move the sofa and we should have enough room to stretch and warm up!"

As the girls trooped into Crystal's apartment they were surprised to see two other familiar faces.

"Tara, Linda, Mags," she said, closing the door behind them, "you remember Ashley and W.C."

The two women stretching and limbering up in Crystal's living room had been upperclassmen on the Middleton cheer squad when the three new arrivals had joined as freshmen. W.C.—no one could remember what her initials stood for or if she had even told anyone—was a Latina with a cloud of curly brown hair and sienna eyes that held flecks of gold. She wore white painter's pants and an electric pink bikini top that contrasted nicely with her bronze skin.

Ashley's ebony complexion was offset nicely by white short-shorts and a brief camisole top. Both girls wore hip-girdles or wide belts with shimmering rows of golden coins, much like the one that Crystal was wearing.

As everyone pitched in to clear a larger portion of the room, Maggie asked: "What do we do, first?"

"We'll warm up with a little stretching," Crystal told the new arrivals. I've got some scarves: you can tie them around your hips in place of an actual girdle. It helps give you a reference for your hip action."

"When you say 'girdle'," Linda qualified, you're not talking about the kind of underwear that my grandmother wears, are you?"

W.C. laughed. "No, girl." She pointed at the wide golden band circling her hips and running across her lower belly a good five inches below her navel. "This is what we call a girdle in the belly dancing biz. We use our hips to make it sing." And she gave a little demonstration by moving her pelvis in ways that made the rows of hanging coins tinkle and ring.

"When you get yours," Ashley added, "you'll want to have it match your top. Something to consider when you order your costume. Or have it made or make it, yourself."

"For now," Crystal said, handing out long scarves to each of the new girls, "tie these around your hips with the loose ends to the side. Try to match how we wear our girdles."

Tara pulled her t-shirt off, revealing a sports bra and pulled her sweatpants down lower on her hips before tying the scarf across the elastic waistband.

Maggie needed no adjustments to her low-rise jeans but unfastened most of the buttons on her top and tied the shirttails in a knot just below her bra.

Linda unzipped her hoodie and discarded it, revealing overalls over a crop top. She unhooked the straps and dropped the bib. The overalls were loose enough that the waist portion fell to the wider portion of her hips and she secured it from falling any more with the scarf that she bound around her pelvic area.

"I'll tell you this, ladies," Crystal said, taking in the row of bared bellies, "given your past training in cheerleading and gymnastics—plus the fact that you all still look like you're in great shape—I think you'll pick this up a lot faster than most of the neophytes. Now let's all stretch a little and then we'll begin with belly rolls…"

**RSVP**

She had wept ceaselessly until her eyes were as dry as the gritty wastes of the Sahara Desert.

Inside her heart and her head the tears continued to fall like a monsoon of hurt and bitterness.

He hadn't come.

He wasn't coming.

He had forgotten her.

Or didn't care.

It didn't matter. Her life was over. All that she could do was wait for death and sweet oblivion to erase this world of pain. All she wanted to do now was die. Just die.

Die.

Die.

Die.

Die.

Die.

Die.

Die.

Die.

**RSVP**

Elle watched Kim Possible from two cells away with growing alarm. The electrical blast she had unleashed at the young woman was intended to short out the moodulator chip on the redhead's forehead and free her from Mastermind's mind-control.

It hadn't worked.

Instead, the chip seemed to be embedded even deeper into her skin and had flashed from green to blue confirming that she had been switched from Happy to Sad Mode. The violence and intensity of her tears, the grief in her voice as she uttered the name "Ron" over and over, had frightened Elle in the beginning but the quiet, vacant stare that had eventually replaced the histrionics terrified her even more, now. She had to do something—anything—to pull the young woman back from the abyss that she now teetered on the brink of.

"Miz Possible! Keem! Leesten to me! Ron Stoppable 'as not forgotten you! 'E doesn' know where you are! 'E doesn' know that you are 'ere!"

Kim finally turned a tear-streaked face to her fellow prisoner. "Y-you know Ron?"

"Oui, Miz Possible. I have seen 'im recently!"

"Did he ask about me?"

_Oh merde!_ Only too late Elle realized that the unhappy woman had read the truth in her face as she tried to think of a good answer.

"He was with someone else, wasn't he?"

Again, too late to make her face into a blank mask.

"I'll bet it was Shego! He always thought she was pretty. 'Hot,' I think he said. And I caught her checking him out just last year—_It was!_"

Elle had turned away too late. She closed her eyes and tried to close out the sounds of dry retching. She would have to build up another charge and try again.

**RSVP**

Dr. Director took the earpiece out of her ear and fumed at this latest turn of events.

In the past hour an unidentified group of armed and masked henchmen had broken into the Global Justice Super-Max prison and liberated a number of notorious criminals. Included in the list of escapees were the amphibious mutant Gil Moss, Anubis avatar Jackie Oakes, numbers boss The Mather, all three of The Fashionistas, super con man Vinnie Wheeler, penny-ante thief Frugal Lucre, technology thief Dr. Fen, jewel thief Falsetto Jones, rogue entomologist Chester Yapsby, and—most upsetting of all—her own brother Sheldon Director, the infamous Gemini whom she had just put away again!

Worse, she was being ordered back to headquarters to deal with the fallout.

She turned to Shego. "Guess what? You're getting a field promotion."

**RSVP**

"You're all showing promise in this being your first session," Crystal announced to the girls lying on her living room floor. "Some students take days or even weeks before they can manage a consistent series of belly rolls. Still, we will need to strengthen your core as we work on your flexibility. Before we're done for today, we'll work on back bends—something else you've already got a head start on. But first…" She nodded to Ashley and W.C.

The two advanced students placed a brick on each of Tara's, Linda's and Maggie's stomachs.

"You're going to sharpen your techniques while strengthening your abdominals by lifting and moving the brick in different ways."

"Wow," panted Linda, "I'm glad I skipped breakfast this morning.

Tara said nothing, focusing on lifting one end of the heavy rectangle and then the other. She was curious to see if she could move it in a circle…

**RSVP**

Shego finished securing the hovercraft in the cargo bay of the Global Justice transport that would carry them to the drop zone while Betty conferred with the pilot. The rest of the group was in the forward crew section where Ron was getting them strapped in and briefed.

_Funny,_ she thought, as she grabbed her kit and eavesdropped a little, _the boy has become a man in such a short time. He's telling the rest of us where to go and what to do like an old hand. Of course he's logged more hours in the air than the rest of us put together. It's easy to forget that he's been in the middle of special ops missions since he was thirteen: Kimmie gets all of the attention and he just cruises along in the background, making sure that she continues to look good._

_No wonder he makes such a strong impression now that the great Kim Possible isn't front and center._

But it wasn't just that, she decided. It wasn't just that Kim wasn't physically present. After a great deal of thought—and Ron Stoppable had been on her mind a great deal these past few weeks—she had come to believe that Ron had created a persona that served as a "frame" for Kim's "portrait."

Consciously or unconsciously—or maybe a little of both—he had taken on the role of "Buffoon" in his partnership with the redhead so that she could shine all the brighter. But the fact that she was no longer physically present was probably less important than the issue that she was no longer "present" in the young man's thoughts. Mentally and emotionally freed of the need to let Kim Possible be the dominant half of their partnership, Ron was learning to soar as a solo act.

But he wouldn't be solo forever, she reminded herself as she remembered the three women wearing belly-baring mission outfits who had spent the better part of the flight to the airport just checking him out and trying to do the subtle flirty stuff. Stoppable either had the self-discipline of a castrated monk or he was incredibly oblivious. She remembered their conversation on the catwalk…yeah, nobody was _that_ oblivious.

And she was going to put that theory to the test, starting right now…

**RSVP**

It was a tough call, Bonnie decided. She really did need help adjusting the military-style seat belt and double shoulder harness. Having Ron's hands all over her body as he strapped her down (now there was a fantasy worth exploring) was great—even better as she caught the glares from Anne and Joss over his shoulder. But she couldn't ask for too much help or she wouldn't come off as competent enough for any future missions with him.

She bore no great love for her sisters who had made her life a living hell growing up. But, while she would happily glory in some form of reasonable comeuppance, serious injury or death were not on that list.

Their rescue was important to her on so many levels.

It would mean they would be safe again.

It would avoid her family's financial ruin that paying a ransom would ensue.

It would give her the ultimate one-upsmanship over both of them if she was involved in their liberation.

It would make her parents proud—especially her father (yes, she did have Daddy issues).

It would boost her own self-esteem. (Sometimes it was the overachievers who were overcompensating for their own lack of self worth—and that was something she had dearly wanted to discuss with Kim for years…)

And, finally, it would put her next to Ron Stoppable in ways that no other woman—save one—had ever achieved.

Yes, originally she had started the "Ron Stoppable is my boyfriend" story as a way to get back on top of the food chain gambit. It was a logical stratagem and believable to anyone who wasn't part of her inner circle: they spent a lot of time together—albeit in the company of Kim Possible and the rest of the cheer squad. It was well known after their sophomore year in High School that he thought that she was "hot"—although he had also been overheard to say that Amelia was hot and Zita was hot and… She shook her head: the point was, they had—what was it called? _Propinquity!_ Therefore, believability. He was an international hero and, according to the infotainment polls, a hottie and a sex symbol now that the Lowardian videos had gone viral.

But, now that she was paying attention…

Face it, Bon Bon, she told herself. Now that you're out of high school and are starting to get your head out of your own ass, you're waking up to what's really important in life.

And in a guy.

And finally admitting to yourself what was there all along, quietly simmering under the surface and making you such a bitch because you couldn't figure out what was _really_ driving you crazy…

And so she was taking a good long look at herself and repenting of her shallowness and self-centeredness. And realizing that she had a chance—maybe a poor chance thanks to all of the stupid, bitchy, if-I'm-unhappy-I'm-going-to-make-sure-nobody-else-is-happy ishes that had built up the emotional armor she'd worn for so many years now.

Maybe this mission would get Ron to see her in a whole new light.

Maybe it wouldn't.

But it would still be important because maybe she could start seeing _herself_ in that new light, instead.

But this was something that she hoped that, at least, she was still doing for the right reasons, the most important reasons: her sisters needed her help.

Thanks to her mad skills as a cheerleader and acrobat, as well as what she had picked up on that weird, Stuck-On-You mission with Kim a couple of years back, two Wannaweep outings with Ron, and some Global Justice gym time, she really felt like she might have something to contribute to this mission. Someone needed to have Ron's back since the real Kim "_I-am-all-that!"_ Possible was still missing. And, since she had always believed she could do anything better than her redheaded rival (including be a better girlfriend), it just made sense for her to be his partner in this.

Her hopes of having Ron really notice her, however, were being undermined by the presence of _her_ ex-boyfriend.

A couple of months of dating Señor Senior Junior was enough to convince her that the man was so grossly incompetent on so many levels that she was certain that he would have ruined sex for her if she had let him get past second base. Not just sex with _him_ but sex with _any_ man for the next five years while she worked to get the bad memories out of her system.

His running interference against any alone time with Ron Stoppable was bad enough but the buffoon—yes, SSJ was the _real buffoon_ and all apologies to Ron couldn't go deep enough—was a walking threat to the safety of the mission, her sisters, and everyone on this plane.

Which brought her attention to the Possible girls.

She still wasn't sure what all was going on in Kim's mother's head, despite the explanations that Ron had offered. _Perhaps if she had been paying more attention to his words instead of focusing on those kissable lips…_

Dr. Possible had always been one of those hot, older women that you wanted to be when you got old, yourself. She'd always resented Kim a little for inheriting her mother's genetic potential while Bonnie felt genetically doomed by her own maternal sitch.

But now that freaky Time Thingy had turned the cougar-like older beauty into major babe in her twenties who thought she was Ron's girlfriend. Worse, she had the prime bod coupled with the seasoned skills to be any young man's wet-dream!

If that wasn't bad enough, Kim's cousin had been beaten about the chest and hips with a big ole bag-o-hormones, turning her into another twenty-something with the curves of Playboy cartoon and the apparent sex drive of a rabid puppy.

Both redheads had enough of the family resemblance to Ron Stoppable's former soul mate to make this incredibly competitive. The fact that both of them had silhouettes that made Kim Possible look like a boy meant that her own charms in the T-and-A Department would not be enough, alone, to get her into the game.

She sighed as she racked her brain for a strategy to out-maneuver her rivals.

Unfortunately, her mental black bag of tricks seemed woefully under-stocked for the competition this time. Honestly, could her odds be any worse? she asked herself.

The door to the Head opened and her mental answer to that last question was a silent tirade of profanity and oath-like obscenities.

Shego was wearing green, brown, and black camouflage in lieu of the tan and black solid colors worn by the rest.

The short shorts bared her thighs all the way up to her—well, all the way up until her thighs threatened to turn into something else. A gun belt with twin holstered .45s pulled the waist down to her hips putting another four inches of abs below her navel on display. The sleeveless shirt was buttoned at the midpoint of her cleavage but the lower half had been pulled into two, tightly rolled shirttails and tied off underneath her fulsome breasts to expose the rest of her toned torso. Two kerchiefs—one tied loosely about her throat, the other tightly knotted to pull her raven hair back into a thick ponytail—matched the camo pattern of her shirt and shorts and contained only marginally less material.

Everyone stared. Bonnie glanced over at Junior and noticed a glistening thread of drool forming at the corner of his mouth.

"What?" Shego asked, the picture of innocence. "We're infiltrating a tropical island. _Tropical_, people!"

She had applied camo-paint to her face and arms. She turned to Ron who was preparing to strap himself into his own seat.

"Ron," she asked nonchalantly, offering him tubes of green, brown, and black camo-paint. "Would you do the rest of me?"

* * *

_**ABOUT THE TITLE: The definition of a "flight of fancy": An idea, narrative, suggestion, etc. which is extremely imaginative and which appears to be entirely unrealistic, untrue, or impractical; thinking which is very speculative. Synonyms: daydream; reverie.**_

_**And then, of course, our rescue team is literally "in flight" right now.**_

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_**Authors/Notes: **_

_**The additional cheerleaders have a somewhat convoluted back story. There are screenshots from the show (especially season one) where more Middleton High Cheerleaders appear than the eight characters we've all come to know by name. Who are they? A photo of a bulletin board from the show's actual production studios reveals images of two girls dressed in cheerleader outfits in addition to some of the other characters displayed, as well. These two are named Maggie and Linda. I've cast them as "alternates" on the squad which explains why you wouldn't see them all that often. Maggie, by the way, appears to be an early character concept that was eventually turned into Jessica.**_

_**The other two names come from fan discussion boards in trying to identify the extra cheerleaders in certain scenes. The names Ashley and W.C. came up more than once.**_

_**While these characters are not entirely within canon, the author did not make them up entirely out of whole cloth. And since I promised to use many characters from the show and avoid introducing any of my own (as much as possible), I am offering this brief synopsis of the other cheerleaders' provenance.**_

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**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 38**

_Athulis 9/17/11 . chapter 38_

Long time reader first time reviewer. Just wanted to say your writing is awesome and I greatly enjoy your story. Eagerly looking forward to your next update**. ****_Keep up the great work._**

**_Thanks Athulis! Don't be shy. I love hearing from my readers even if it's only a sentence or two. And reviews actually pressure me (in a good way) to stay up or neglect my other projects to crank out the next chapter a little sooner. R~13_**

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_CajunBear73 9/17/11 . chapter 38_

Aw crap, while Junior's trying to turn this into a Turkey Shoot for his own aggrandizement, the trip over is turning into one Tsunami of an Estrogen Festival...

But to your question about me running beta for you and needing therapy to do it, not even close. I'm already running such for Sentinel103 and our collab account right now, so I'm not quite available for that at this time.

Besides, forget therapy, you can't afford my bar tab... LOL!

CB73

**_Never fear, _****CB****_, I wouldn't dream of really asking anything that would impede or interfere with the BearSent gestalt or the timely updating of the "Out There, In Here" epic. Besides, one more chapter—maybe two—and that bar tab just might need a federal bailout loan… ;-) R~13_**

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_Grin-Grin 9/18/11 . chapter 38_

It's a testament to an author if - when he updates he makes someone's day somewhere.

Did this make my day?

Fuck...

Yes...

Keep on trucking, my friend, keep on trucking.

**_Wow! It really makes my day if I'm able to make another reader's day! Let's face it, there's only two rewards for posting stories here. First, the release of that built-up pressure and constipation that an unwritten plot bunny causes. And second, the knowledge that someone is actually reading your stuff and (if you're lucky) liking it. It's the coin of the realm, man! Please reward your favorite stories/authors generously. R~13_**

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_Sentinel103 3/2/12 . chapter 38_

Oh boy there is nothing wrong about doing a set up chapter (which this is BTW)...it allows the writer and the reader to catch their breaths.

So I wonder if Junior has thought far enough ahead to think that Bonnie might be a little torqued at him for rubbing out her sisters even if they are Connie and Lonnie.

So Kim's in freak zone with her chip? I have a feeling that ride is far from over.

Oh and Shego camo up the torso too, even a mint hue will attack fire.

Larry (Sentinel 103)

**_Of course. Good thing Ronnie-poo is there to help her… R~13_**

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_Uberscribbler 12/15/12 . chapter 38_

Ugh, and ugh again. This is getting bad, because things are HAPPENING. And happening FAST.

I also have to remind myself the sheer number of women now competing for Ron's attention. Its a little on the weird side considering who some of them are.

Repeating the request to get (who I presume is the real dea) KP out of that cell. Please and thank you.

**Uberscribbler, **_**you've got to slow down: take smaller bites and chew slowly or you'll get indigestion.**_**_ And give me your short list for the proper competition. As for poor Kim? Well…not this chapter, anyway._**

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_zafnak 7/16/13 . chapter 38_

Holy Moley! Somebody (like we need to guess who) broke out the D-List badguys!

Now the world will tremble with fear!

Nah

**_Tremble? Yes! _**

**_Fear? No..._**

**_R~13_**

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_the Desert Fox 7/17/13 . chapter 38 _

I like these more detailed chapters as well as the inclusion of the space aliens. I wonder whatever did happen to Warmonga? Umm, I noticed a couple mistakes in the previous chapters: 1) Pre-chapter 8, it should read "Don't count on it." She whispered back. The quotation marks are missing. 2) Ron and Kim went to Middleton Elementary School for K-6 not Middleton Middle School. About the reference to Dementer doing a Prussian bow (?), while it's slightly correct, Prussia hasn't existed since 1947. Although from 1871-1947 Prussia was apart of Germany. Always wondered what had happened to Kimmie. I think I missed that she was Sister Justine.

Keep up the good work.

**_Thanks D.F.! I've gone back and made the corrections for Chapters 7 & 9. Always looking for ways to improve the story or fix little (or big) mistakes that got by (the first 3 or 5 times). You readers are my betas. As for Chapter 23, I'll let it stand for now. The "Prussian" bow (along with heel clicks) is a descriptive term that may have its origins in a historical/geographical time & place. But, like other anachronisms that are rooted from earlier times and other places, they appear from time to time and are designated by their historical antecedents. A sort of example of this is the Nazi salute. Yes, I know that there are still "Nazis" today but, while they have glommed onto elements of the original Nazi Party philosophy and played around with the signage, most serious folk do not (without letting either off the hook) see the two groups as one and the same. _**

**_As for Warmonga, most agree that she and Warhok perished when Ron threw them skyward into their exploding starship. However, look for a sister Lowardian to come looking for her in a bit... R~13_**

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_Some Dude 8/29/13 . chapter 38 _

I'm really starting to like Bonnie in this story. Is that weird?

**_I hope not. I've worked really hard to redeem Shego and Bonnie without taking them too far from their established baselines. Even Josh Mankey turns out to be a decent guy and I found a way to split up Kim and Ron without making either of them a terrible person. I kind of think these are among the greatest accomplishments of the whole series... Well, that and all of the unbridled, _****_almost_****_-sex... _**

**_;-) R~13_**

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_Laserai chapter 38 . 7/23/14_

Greetings, the Laserai graces you for a visit.

Call it the force, fate or what have you that drew me to your story. It happened about two days ago at 1700 hours or so. The story summary seemed interesting and M rated stories tend to contain a bit more substance for the time. I was hoping to read something with some meat on it. After blazing through 15 chapters in two hours, I was quite convinced that you had indeed achieved what many writers often fail miserably to accomplish.

I have only read one other Kim Possible story that has held my attention as intensely as this one. Your masterful use of unexpected plot twists and creative situations have totally captured me. Annihilating the remaining chapters to reach this point to the here and now didn't require much though and deliberation.

Like an addictive drug a junkie finds himself powerless to escape, I have found myself caught up in every aspect of this story. The good times, the bad times, the silly times and even the sensual. Especially the sensual! You certainly have a silver tongue or writing hand. Many would die to be able to write half as good as this.

The raw and unbridled emotion contained in this story was also surprising. There were times that I was left speechless or contemplative. There were times where I was shocked to the point of gobstopped. There were even times I was forced to pause to prevent myself from crying a tear. Men do cry when things get emotional too so deal. lol

This story is like a non-fiction live broadcast footage of the characters in real life. The consequences are displayed untapped and uncut in full spectrum unlike the Disney played down kid friendly reality. Constantly becoming a international target by combating terrorists and super villains across various continents is bound to have more serious repercussions back home then what the original cannon often portrays. Excellent job in that front.

These repercussions are never addressed in the original cannon of the story. The clear dynamic of Team Possible is also laid bare for all to see. I am completely on board and have had my suspicions regarding Ron for the longest that his Bufoon "act" was a clever farce to make the Princess shine. Naturally, Kim Possible never notices attributing her blazing success to her own attributes alone.

Since I failed to review chapters until this point as I was caught up in a reading shark frenzy, I felt it necessary to write one long arse review here and now and endeavor to be on your continuous support review board for you here and now till the end.

Has your story offended people? Probably. Personally I think the world could use more things to offend and amaze. A lot of people have become easily offended pansies and whiners who offend cry foul at anything they don't like. Our ancestors would weep if they could see how far their descendants have fallen from grace.

That said if the story gets the job done and is five star but offensive so what? Haters will always hate and trolls will do what they do for no good reason. This is life as we know it. You have done well to kick their expected but at times useless opinions to the curb and remain true to your story direction and drive. I deeply respect your inner strength in this affair. Not many have the moxie to stay true to their beliefs. Well done.

Have you maintained a consistently strong story presence from beginning to now? Personally I believe you have held a strong consistency throughout with the occasional highs and lows. Such variables should be expected however since your creating this fictional reality on your own without collaboration. Of course there will be occasional lull periods. To expect anything else is nothing short of madness. Your presence is nothing short of outstanding. If I could have you writing a new cannon story for Kim Possible I would but I don't own anything related to the story any more then you so my overflowing flattery will just have to do.

Wrapping up, I will be watching your story progression and clinging to every word with unbridled anticipation. You have gained yet another faithful disciple in your writings. Your nearly divine writing ability has definitely captured my full attention. As a writer myself with 5 years of review experience, I can only hope I will be able to write as 1/2 as good as your doing right now. Your on all of my fave and watch lists from now on. You have the gift.

I will only add this: Don't let the light die out. Run this story clear to completion. Don't let the creative wall which all writers encounter block you out or shut you down. Don't let the haters or flamers or trolls get to you. You will be definitely hearing from me again except on more modest review sizes from this point forward. Count on it.

Keep charging, Laserai out.

_**Wow. I mean, wow: I am just speachless. Graces me with a visit, indeed! I just wish I was as good as you think I am! I look back and I see the flaws in my work: I tinker to make it better but, as I point out in the upcoming second epilogue, I really can't go back and take the story completely apart and heavily restructure it without making the reviews incomprehensible and confusing the readers past the point of a reboot. Still, I am largely content that the story has resonated with a number of my readers. And I feel that I have been fortunate that I haven't been flamed or trolled: those critics who have taken issue with parts of what they've read, have done so out of a sincere (I think) view of what they perceive to be real flaws. I agree with some of them and the ones I am willing to debate still feel like genuine opinions on the part of those readers. I try to clarify any misperceptions if such is the case and I recognize that it is impossible to write to please everybody. The one review that I regret the most was my very first one and that is because I believe the reader got the wrong first impression of the first draft of the first chapter and never came back to see what was really going on.**_

_**That said, I won't deny that your words are a real pick-me-up. I thank you for your kindness and encouragement. I hope you won't regret them down the road. R~13**_


	39. Rumble in the Jungle

**Required Disclaimer:** _Insert standard Fan Fiction Boilerplate here._

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**Chapter Thirty-Nine: Rumble in the Jungle**

The GJ transport came in low over the ocean, its rear cargo ramp almost skimming the tops of the largest waves as the hovercraft deplaned and headed for the distant line of green.

With their departure, the transport turned sharply and headed for a refueling port with the promise to return in twenty-four hours if there was no retrieval signal before then.

Shego kept the craft low as they approached the island and the ocean spray had everyone a bit damp within minutes. Bonnie wanted to snark but she instinctively knew that hugging the waves gave them a better chance of landing without being seen. Besides, it was warm down here in the tropics and the wet fabric was displaying the outlines of her nipples to great effect.

Her smile faded when noticed similar displays all around her. _Whoa! Is everybody going "commando" on this mish? And who the hell could Junior be texting at a time like this?_

Shego brought the hovercraft around to land on the farthest end of the island from the ransom drop site while Ron passed out frequency-matched earpieces. Skimming up the beach, the camo-clad pilot steered it between thatches of palm trees before settling down in an area where the foliage would provide plenty of concealment for their transportation.

Ron and Shego opened matching satellite maps and quickly reviewed their revised plans. The original plan involved a three-pronged approach to exploring the island with each group led by an experienced operative. Dr. Director's recall to Global Justice headquarters changed everything as only Ron and Shego had sufficient experience to qualify them as team leaders (despite Anne's protests to the contrary).

More protests followed from Anne and Joss when they discovered that Bonnie and Junior would be on Ron's team while they were "stuck" with Shego. For some reason Shego didn't seem to find their attitudes insulting in the least and Bonnie secretly wondered if that was because the mercenary didn't consider her to be nearly as much of a competitive threat as the two redheads. Oh yes, Shego's proprietary body language, even masked by her professionalism, was still readable and Bonnie had pretty much come to the conclusion that any female in close proximity to Mr. Stoppable was crushing pretty hard on Kimmie's ex. Which was why she needed to get him moved out of the "ex" column and into the "Bonnie's BF" column. And if she couldn't find a way to seal the deal—or at least move the ball down the field, to use an old football analogy—then she'd have a real uphill battle back home where the competition was even stiffer.

One last round of grumbling from Shego's team and they headed out in opposite directions.

**RSVP**

Tara dragged herself out of the elevator and into the penthouse suite, weary from her workout with Crystal and the girls, followed by hours of homework and study. Her balancing act of classes coupled with EMT work had been challenging enough before Ron had suddenly come into the equation. Now she wasn't sure if she could keep up anymore. The whole commute from Lowerton ate additional time out of her day and she hoped that Ron would just let her flop on one of the sofas tonight.

_Or lend you half his bed,_ the voice whispered in her head.

She shook her head against the thought. Anyway, it was just ridiculous…

She'd had her shot and if the boy wasn't desperate enough to take her up on her signals back then, he certainly wasn't going to be interested now.

That blonde robot scientist, she noticed, was seated at the dining room table tinkering with some kind of metal box-like thing.

She felt a flash of jealousy at the older woman's beauty—_beauty AND brains_, she reminded herself: a lethal combination. Then she sighed inwardly. Any friend of Ron's…

_Besides,_ she thought as she moved toward her, _we blondes have to stick together._

Vivian looked up as Tara approached.

_Oh great!_ the roboticist thought. _It's that platinum blonde hottie from the hospital. It's a good thing she doesn't know how beautiful she really is or the rest of us would just have to pack up and go home now! _

"Hi," Tara said, standing across the table from her, "its Vivian, isn't it?"

Dr. Porter nodded. "You're Tara. You look tired." She gestured at a chair. "Take a load off."

"Thanks," the former Mad Dog cheerleader said, sitting down rather heavily. "It's been one of those days."

The other blonde smirked. "I'm starting to think that whenever Ron's involved, every day is going to be 'one of those days'."

Tara giggled. "You may have something there." She looked around. "So…any word on the Bonnie sitch?"

Vivian shook her head as she applied a tiny screwdriver to a series of screws ringing the top of a metal contraption. I haven't seen Ron or Shego or your friend or the Possibles since they left the party last night. I thought this Bonnie was your best friend…"

Tara shook her head a little wistfully. "Close friend, maybe. But not 'best' friend. At least not lately. And maybe never, really…"

_Oh ho!_ thought Vivian. "I hear she tends to be…competitive."

"It's…complicated…" She looked at the unfolded newspapers protecting the tabletop and the parts scattered on top of those from one end of the table to the other. "What are you doing here?"

"Working on a robot."

_No,_ Tara thought grumpily, _I mean what are _you_doing__…here? _Out loud, she asked: "Like the Bebes?"

"What? Oh, no. Oliver is my own project." She picked up the metal object and Tara could now see it was some kind of metal skull—something between a human skull and something utterly alien and machinelike.

"So…it's gonna be a boy robot?"

Vivian frowned. "Oliver was all but destroyed trying to fix the Genpatsu reactor in Japan. I'm hoping to reconstruct his mecha-skeleton and restore his programming from backup copies back at the Space Center." She sighed. "I don't know how much of the old Ollie can be recreated with old back-ups, though. And I do want to experiment with some of the positronic technology and nanite-embedded polymers that the B-bots are now utilizing." She looked back at Tara. "But while Oliver was—and will be reconstructed—with the outward appearance of a fully adult male…he will no more psychologically or emotionally gendered than either of those outwardly female appearing B-bots."

Tara glanced around at two of the three former Bebes that were in the room.

"Are you sure about that?"

**RSVP**

The straggling line of super-villains staggered up to the door of Mastermind's lair with the masked villain, herself, floating ahead on her flying throne.

"I can't believe we've had to walk the better part of ten miles to complete our escape," Falsetto Jones complained. "My 'dogs' are really barking like nobody's business!" he said, referring to his sore feet.

"Dude! Seriously," Ed Lipsky told him, "it so would have not been a problem if Francis, here, had followed the plan and arranged for four rentals instead of one!"

"Hey," Frugal Lucre said, defending himself for the eighth time since the cargo truck had broken down a couple of hours ago, "we saved money on renting a single truck over four rental cars! Vehicle rates, insurance, gas—"

"Ya forgot to figure in the orthodontics," Jackie Oakes said menacingly as he punched his left hand with his right fist.

"What does that mean?"

"It means," Motor Ed explained, "that he's gonna punch you in the mouth and, when he's done, if you have any teeth left, I'm punching out the rest of them! Seriously!"

Francis Lurman's a.k.a. Frugal Lucre's response was lost as Mastermind exclaimed: "Drew?"

**RSVP**

Team Shego encountered their first group of mercenaries about thirty minutes in.

Joss heard them first, a trio of men hurrying through the jungle near their position. As soon as she whispered into her comm-link, Shego swung a pair of binoculars to her eyes and tracked their movement by the rustling of the underbrush. She turned to give the two redheads orders but they were already disappearing: Joss up a nearby palm tree and Anne crawling into the undergrowth on an intercept course.

Shego gritted her teeth in frustration. Two amateur wildcards and the mercs were headed toward their hovercraft like they knew exactly where they had landed. Her hands caressed the butts of the twin .45s on her hips but she left them holstered. Maybe there were only three men on the island and this could be wrapped up quickly…

But her sixth sense was already warning her that nothing was ever as easy as it looked. If there were more mercenaries about, the sound of gunfire would bring them running and pinpoint their location.

Not that they didn't already have a good idea of their location based on their movement toward the hovercraft.

**RSVP**

Ron signaled a halt and put a finger to his lips.

His ninja-sharpened hearing had alerted him to something but it was difficult to be sure with Junior crashing through the underbrush behind him and flailing away at the odd plant with his machete.

"What is it?" the big man asked. "Why are we stopping?"

"Quiet!" Bonnie hissed at him, "Ron is trying to listen."

"I do not hear anything," the muscle-bound Spaniard said in a voice loud enough to alert anyone within a hundred yards.

Ron waved at him and made another shushing gesture.

"And why are we stopping?" Junior continued. "I thought we were to be saving your sisters."

Ron glided back toward their noisy teammate in hopes of quieting him in person but they were interrupted by the sound of gunfire.

And the shredding of leaves next to Bonnie's head as a half dozen bullets whizzed by.

Ron accelerated and tackled Bonnie to the jungle floor as another burst tore through the greenery where she had been standing just seconds before.

Junior shrieked like an Italian castrato. "Hey! She's with me! You are not to be shooting at her! I thought I was very clear!"

Bonnie's teal-colored eyes widened as she stared up at Ron's chocolate irises, just inches away from her own. She brought her hand up behind his head and pulled him down for a quick but enthusiastic kiss. Punctuating it with a little wriggle of her hips against his, she whispered: "You go left, I'll go right."

Ron nodded and they rolled in opposite directions. As Bonnie rolled to where her former boyfriend was still standing, she kicked up between his legs.

The high-pitched screech as Junior doubled over was sufficient distraction for the brunette cheerleader to pop up and lob a couple of ball-shaped grenades in the direction of their attackers. Twin flashes backlit the foliage as the traitor slowly toppled over, cupping his privates all the way to the ground.

Ron ghosted around and behind their assailants, coming up on five mercenaries, stuck together in two groups of three and two thanks to the Dementor-based bondo-grenades Bonnie had tossed in their path.

They were quickly neutralized as Ron hit a series of pressure-points he'd learned back at Yamanouchi. Stripping the unconscious soldiers of their weapons and communications gear, he returned to find Bonnie sitting astride the prone Junior, twisting his ear and hissing: "How much? How much did you pay them? Tell me or I'll start twisting something else!"

"The question you should be asking right now," Ron told the furious girl, "is how _many_, followed by _where _their base is and your sisters are."

**RSVP**

The Uptopian was confused.

Perhaps the data they had been given had been doctored.

It was reasonably clear that the Ron Stoppable recorded by the Lowardian probe and the Ron Stoppable documented on the Earthian internet was the same person as the Ron Stoppable who had just risked his life dealing with a quintet of lowly ruffians.

Why hadn't he simply destroyed them, utilizing his fantastic, blue powers?

It didn't make sense!

Cloaked and hovering just above the tree tops, the agent continued to document The Target's behavior for the growing report that her superiors were going to demand before the mission (and the Target) was fully executed.

**RSVP**

Shego lit up her hands, hoping that she could take out all three before any of them got off a shot. Bad enough if the sound alerted any other hostiles; far worse if any of her team got plugged.

At least her girls seemed to be well hidden, she told herself as she moved to intercept. God only knew what liabilities the brunette and her former boyfriend were turning out to be for Ron.

Too deep in her own head, she almost missed the approach of two other mercs, moving parallel to the trio she was about to engage. As she turned to address this new threat, the sound of distant gunfire brought their heads up and they turned toward the former villainess.

_Ron!_ she thought desperately. And unleashed green hell-fire at the unlucky pair before they could bring their weapons to bear.

That action, however, cost her dearly as she could hear the sound of auto-selectors being snapped into position as she started to turn back.

_Too late!_ her mind screamed, and her torso tensed against the barrage of bullets to follow in seconds.

Instead, the first sounds were a pair of _**clonks**_ as she saw a mercenary go down and another stagger—the result of a pair of coconuts hurled down like unexploded ordinance.

As she continued her turn, Shego saw Anne erupt up out of the green underbrush, leg sweeping the third soldier and using his collapsing body as a springboard to jump-kick the second man who was already disoriented from the coconut's glancing blow. By the time she was able to close the distance, Joss had dropped back down from her overhead perch and was helping her aunt secure the prisoners. She motioned to the two of them to follow up with the two she had pressure-cooked and then broke radio silence: "Ron?"

"You good?" his voice answered in her earpiece.

"Yah. Just took out five."

"Us, too."

"Yeah, but we did it quietly," she boasted in her relief that he was okay.

"Yeah? Well it was just two of us against the five of them plus Junior."

"Junior?" she snarled. Her hands started to smolder again.

"Turns out he hired these guys. Kidnapped Bonnie's sisters. Wanted to get the ransom, then help rescue them to get the glory and win Bonnie back."

"And us?"

"Apparently we—or at least I—was supposed to be some kind of gift to this new super-villain everyone's talking about."

"Mastermind?"

"That's the one. Guess this dude's got some kind of grudge."

"He's not the only one, now" she growled. "What about Junior?"

Ron's voice chuckled in her ear, a sound that sent a little quiver down her sides. "He's going to _stick_ with his friends for now. We're going on without him."

"Lucky," she said, shaking her head.

"Oh, Bonnie was really helpful," he said. "She did most of the work—before _and_ after."

"I wasn't talking about you. I meant him: if he'd been with me when I found out, he wouldn't be waiting about for a Global Justice retrieval."

"Maybe, but—Bonnie! Stop that! You don't need to kick—Shego, I'd better go before my partner commits a major felony. Here's the coordinates for the actual base camp…"

**RSVP**

Cece blinked as her optics came back online.

She pondered what had happened as she ran a series of internal diagnostics.

She had returned to the Possible house to retrieve additional items for Anne Possible per Ron's instructions. While in the process of gathering these items she detected auditory evidence of another presence in the basement. Descending the stairs, she had—

That was just it: what happened next did not exist in her memory banks.

It had either been purged, erased, or was never recorded to begin with.

She had no way of knowing what had incapacitated her or how she was able to reboot herself.

She checked her internal programming. Something had been altered: she was sure of it! But the original backups had been erased and overwritten so she had no way of knowing exactly what those changes were.

It worried her.

Her prime directive—_Serve Ron Stoppable_—was still intact and unchallenged. Enhanced, even, by the subsequent events and experiences that her positronic brain incorporated into her learning/evolving gestalt of self-programming personality parameters.

She no longer served Ron Stoppable because she _had_ to.

She served him because she _wanted _to.

It seemed to…_please_…her.

An interesting development as she had discovered that her self-repair and upgrade protocols had repurposed some of her receptors and circuitry as pleasure feedback systems.

But there was no pleasure right now as she worried whether the change in her programming posed a threat, in any way, to Ron Stoppable.

She ran a more thorough set of diagnostics but uncovered nothing apparently malign.

Eventually, she finished gathering the items she had come for and, reaching the front door, hesitated.

She had no record of what was downstairs, in the basement.

Perhaps she should check it out before she departed.

**_Not yet._**

She quivered. _Not now_, she decided. _Perhaps later…_

**_Return to your planned routines. You will be given further instructions when it is time. Forget what you have forgotten…for now._**

Her quivering abruptly stopped. Cece zipped out through the front door and zoomed back toward the warehouse.

**RSVP**

Dr. Drakken awoke to warm blankets and a comfy chair. A hassock cushioned his feet and, as he felt the chill slowly leave his bluer-than-usual body, he became aware of a wonderful odor at his elbow.

Turning his head, he beheld a truly wondrous sight: his old college mug—the one that proudly proclaimed "ACTUALLY, I _AM_ A ROCKET SCIENTIST." He had lost it years ago, moving from lair to lair, and hadn't realized that it must have occupied some duty shelf in here for the past decade. Only now it was sparkling clean and, better yet, it was filled to the brim with steaming hot coco-moo!

Carefully, gingerly, he reached out with trembling hands and picked up that Holy Grail, that cup of sweet ambrosia, and raised it to his parched and only partially thawed lips. As he took a little sip, he looked over the rim of the cup and saw a masked and hooded figure seated on a floating chair across the room.

"Erm…hello?" Drakken said.

"Drew…" boomed an artificial and multi-harmonic voice, "…you had me worried."

"Haaahhhuuhnn…do I know you?"

**RSVP**

Three hours after her last student departed there came another knock at her door.

"Thank you so much, Crystal!" her new student said as she entered and hung her jacket in the hallway.

"It's okay," the former Middleton cheerleader said as she gestured toward the living room. "For what you're paying me, I'd give you lessons in the middle of the night. But I think you'd enjoy a group setting more. Belly Dancing promotes a real community of sisterhood."

"Maybe after I get better," the tanned and toned brunette answered as she pushed the top of her jeggings down to the tops of her hips. "I'm kind of shy."

Crystal rolled her eyes at the thought that the overly popular beauty might be self conscious. "Whatever you say, Amelia. It's your dime…"

**RSVP**

The camp was three miles past the designated drop-zone for the ransom and just inside the tree line overlooking the beach. A cloaked hover-jet was parked nearby. Four armed guards watched the perimeter outward. In between were a couple of six man tents and a bamboo cage holding Connie and Lonnie Rockwaller.

Bonnie lay on her stomach next to Ron and watched her sisters through the binoculars. A funny feeling roiled through her thorax, a feeling she had felt only rarely—and never in relation to her selfish siblings. With a start she realized that odd sensation was compassion.

She handed the binocs back to Ron and wiped at her moist eyes. "So, what's the plan?"

"Simple," Shego's voice crackled in everyone's earpieces, "Ron does what he does best—"

"Booyah," he interrupted softly, "the Ronster's mad ninja skilz—"

"—he'll be the distraction," she continued. "While you divert their attention—"

"Ah, man! Why do I have to be the distraction? I'm actually better at close quarters and hand-to-hand than you are, Mean Green."

"That has yet to be actually proven," she argued. "And, even if true, you can't shoot plasma bolts at a distance."

"I could if you'd let me borrow—"

"No! I'm keeping what's mine and that means I've got the advantage over you while closing the distance." What she didn't say was that she would rather put herself in harm's way than him. Head of Security or not, she wanted him safe. "And we still need a distraction," she added.

"We'll be your distraction," Joss said, jumping into the discussion.

"What? No," Ron said. "The distraction goes into the line of fire, first. You two are hanging back until we give the signal—_if_ we give the signal. And Shego's right: I've got far more experience in being the distraction than everyone else here, put together." He paused. "Even if I am better at close quarters and hand-to-hand than anyone else here."

He waited for Shego to snark but, instead, heard: "Hey. Wait. Anne? Joss? Where did you go?"

"Don't worry," Anne's voice answered. We've got this. Five minutes and then they'll be facing the beach." There was a rustling and then the sound of splashing water.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Bonnie grumbled.

"All right," Ron said, "if their diversion works, Shego, you'll take the two on the north and west sides. I'll take the east and the south."

"What about me? Bonnie asked.

"You're lookout," Ron decided. "Two groups of five out in the field. Only four, here. They don't have to all be completely symmetrical but I'll feel better if someone's got our backs and keeping watch for an extra merc. Holler out if anything changes: reinforcements…etcetera."

Bonnie scowled. "Don't baby me! I've been pulling my weight, haven't I?"

"You're an excellent mission partner, Bonnie," Ron answered with a smile.

"Well then, how about this?" she asked, crouching and pulling the black mission top up and over her head.

"What—what are you doing, B?"

"Multi-tasking," she answered as she shed her top the rest of the way.

"Is that what you girls call it? Gee," Ron rubbed his neck and tried to not look at what the well-endowed Miss Rockwaller was practically shoving in his face. "And all those times that other girls told me that they were good at multi-tasking? Well, here I was thinking of something completely different…"

"This," Bonnie said, her voice all serious and without a trace of irony, "is for back-up."

"Er, again, not the sort of things—_thing!_—that I have come to associate with the term back-up…" _Maybe I should back up!_ he thought.

"Well, the other team members called it," she said grimly. "And I am a team player, Ronnie. I want you to see that. Do you _see_ that?"

"Uh…see? What am I supposed to be seeing? Exactly…?"

"Oh, Ronnie, I'm every bit as good as them!" She knelt over him, making it impossible to fully look away. "I can be just as good a distraction as any of them!" She placed her hands on both sides of his face and pulled his head toward hers. That put his face within inches of Middleton High's most perfect bosom (voted three years' running—her freshman year being a tie with Amelia). He could feel the heat rising off of them (or was that just his cheeks?) He could smell the dab of perfume that she had applied to the secret depths of her cleavage that morning. He could feel the drool threatening to escape the corner of his mouth and tried to concentrate on swallowing.

"Any time you need me to be the primary distraction, I'm here for you. Do you understand?"

"I—uh—well—I may have—um—missed a page—or something here—"

"Oh!" she said, "you are just too sweet!" And kissed him.

Her lips were gentle but insistent. And though the kiss was relatively short—six or seven seconds in real time—Ron felt that he had been thoroughly tasted and kissed well and good.

"Now," she said, "I think the girls are in place…"

_Yes, they are…_ Ron thought dazedly.

She put the binoculars into his hand and turned his face toward the beach on the other side of the camp.

Reluctantly, he turned his attention back to the mission. _Head in the game, Ron_ said a voice in his head. It wasn't _his_ voice nor was it a voice that he recognized—yet it seemed strangely _familiar…_

But the voice was quickly forgotten as he focused the binoculars on the scene that was unfolding in the shallow waters just off-shore…

* * *

**ABOUT THE TITLE: "****The Rumble in the Jungle"**** was a historic boxing event in 1974 in what is now the Democratic Republic of the Congo between the undefeated world heavyweight champion George Foreman (yes, that George Foreman) against challenger Muhammad Ali, a former heavyweight champion. (Ali won by knockout, putting Foreman down just before the end of the eighth round.) It has been called "arguably the greatest sporting event of the 20th century." Until now, that is…**

* * *

**Authors/Notes:**

**_Well, boys and girls, it's taking me longer to kill off everyone than I thought. But I'm getting there. Especially when the readers go silent: got to stir the pot a bit. Please cast your vote for the next character to bite the big one…_**

**_Oh, stop it, ya pervs!_**

**_BTW: This chapter takes us past 200,000 words, more than 2 novels' worth! Congratulate yourselves! Except for those of you who have been "skimming". (Yeah, I know who you are!)_**

* * *

**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 39**

_Pavelius 9/22/11 . chapter 39_

I think my crazy idea from 3 chapters ago about Masterminds identity is going to be right...

I guessed it is Mama Lipsky and how Mastermind is adressing Dr.D in this chapter is hardening this guess... and the Coco-Moo... the horror!

Anyway... nice chapter and go Bonnie... Kickoff in Juniortown! Und the Hive-mind of the BeBe's is reactivated?

I have got the feeling that with the end of this part Kim wont be rescued... so that you have some plot for Book II...

Keep it upp

Pavel

**_Ah _****Pavelius****_, one of these days you'll figure out that, every time that you guess correctly, I change the answer and the plot to keep you off-balance! (Well, no, not really; but you really do keep me on my toes. As to your three guesses...OH! LOOK OVER THERE!) R~13_**

* * *

_CajunBear73 9/22/11 . chapter 39_

Well Junior's going to hit the high notes for a while, that's for sure. Especially if Bonnie goes Vienna Boys Choir on him.

Some major estrogen driven emotions running so many efforts in this mission, hope no one gets hurt trying to be a beacon for Ron's emotions. The red heads are staking their claim and making their mark aren't they?

Bonnie's going above and beyond and between her and the women at sea Shego and Ron may just lay waste the mercs holding Bonnie's sisters.

Drakken has fallen in with Mastermind and I wonder how this will play out.

But for all the drama and folderol, in the end, my money's on Kim...

CB73

_**CB**_**_ you've been a faithful and true-blue Kim fan! And you know how faithfulness is rewarded…yeah, not in my universe, either! ;-) R~13_**

* * *

_Sentinel103 3/2/12 . chapter 39_

Awwwww a cliffie! Geee whiz, now for the final assault and the freeing of Connie and Lonnie...I'll bet they had no idea that they were pawns.

So just how many girls are playing distraction here? I lost count Bonnie caught me off guard.

Larry (Sentinel 103)

**_I'd mock you for losing count of the girls—but then you might find out that I've lost count, too. (Now this is why I need a beta!) R~13_**

* * *

_evilfrog1 7/19/13 . chapter 39_

truly a good story other then I am confused if this is a harem or not? With Yori some what alive and so many girls after him I am seeing few chances of it being anything other. I am also worried about what you said about shego and the cancer why is no one else affected? Don't get me wrong the story is the second best Kim Possible I have read it feels like it is running around in circles to much.

If you are deciding on a harem I would say Bon Bon, Shego, Elle, and maybe Monique. If you need a fifth go Yori.

Evilfrog1

**_Hmmmmm...is it a "Harem" story? From what I understand, FanFiction Harem Stories involve multiple characters in a romantic or sexual relationships with a central character. While Ron has mutiple "relationships" at this point, they are not (yet) sexual and, if there are any "romantic" feelings, they only seem to be one-way and not reciprocal. So...not a "Harem"...yet. Who knows what the future will bring?_**

**_As for the cancer issue, it's not a problem so much in brief encounters but we'll see the issue addressed later..._**

**_2nd best? Wow, I'm curious as to who's on your list for 1st. Thanks! And running around in circles too much? Well, it may feel like that for awhile as I've got a number of players on the stage. I'm trying to fix some of that in the rewrites but we're not even to the halfway point of this big, multi-part story so... R~13_**

* * *

_Some Dude 8/29/13 . chapter 39 _

I am definitely liking Bonnie more and more!

**_Sorry, Dude: I think Bonnie's only interested in one guy, right now... ;-) R~13_**

* * *

_Laserai chapter 39 . 7/24/14_

Well its good to see Bonnie is definitely taking her love conquest of Ron seriously as she is definitely laying out all the stops. I will say Ron seems to have the will power of a Jedi knight though it appears he definitely had a moment of weakness. With a 15 out of 10 bombshell girl like Bonnie seducing you I can imagine even an elder monk would have a hard time putting up a defense against such a play.

_**Oh, Lase: I've got a chapter in Part II that you're really going to love...**_

And what the heck is going on with Bebe? What the hell did she encounter in the basement? Is it a cause for a red alert? The fact that Cece has been pondering as was mentioned in a past episode is already curious enough as it is. What's going on with those android gals? They seem to be becoming a bit to real to simply keep calling robots I think.

_**All I can say is that the situation continues to evolve...**_

Keep it up. Your direction with the story thus far continues on point. I also can't help but be overjoyed were only 1/2 way into the story. Means it won't be ending just yet.

Keep on charging. Laserai out.

_**Uh...you're wrong about the "halfway" mark. More like only 1/3. Better pace yourself... R~13**_

* * *

PyroNagus chapter 39 . 10/2/14

I can't tell if mastermind is genuinely worried about Drakken or just needs him cause he's an important pawn in her plan. That cup though, where did the mastermind get that? or more importantly why go through the trouble of finding it? *gasps* Oh no... I've got a terrible speculation... an unlikely one but still... DRAKKEN, grab that bun of bread! The is impossibly worse than i imagined... perhaps EVEN worse than miss Hatchet...

_**Well, the cup was already there in the lair, gathering dust. Drakken hadn't seen it for years because he hadn't been back to this particular lair for years.**_

As for the 'totally helpful distraction'...er...yep, like i said before: comical running gag. okay, who's next? XD I wonder how many intimate moments you can squeeze in the story before its over and done with. Maybe have Shego embarrass herself in front of Ron, it would be funnier since she's the professional one. Bonnie seems to have totally lost it. The Anne is a wreck and Joss has her mind filled with Golden boy, I would assume.

_**Don't worry, I'm about to press the BIG RED BUTTON. ;-) R~13**_


	40. On the Beach

**Required Disclaimer:** _Kim Possible is a registered trademark of Disney, Inc., and was created by Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. All rights and properties are retained therein. Use of the aforementioned is without permission for this fan-made fiction without profit in accordance with the Fair Use Act doctrine of United States Copyright law._

* * *

**Chapter Forty: On the Beach**

In the weeks that followed the earthquake and tsunami in Japan, an orderly form of chaos had reigned.

Tens of thousands of the sick, dead, and dying had their numbers bolstered daily as fresh survivors were found under thousands of acres of rubble and drowned bodies returned to the shore by each fresh tide.

The hospitals, clinics, and makeshift treatment stations overflowed with the unidentified living and the anonymous dead. Many simply had no surviving family or neighbors to identify them.

Lists were compiled slowly due to the sheer size of the task.

First as local postings.

Then regional.

Eventually national.

Long and multiple lists of names would have been challenging enough but without names and only sketchy descriptions, finding family or making IDs was incredibly daunting.

The students and staff of Yamanouchi assisted with searches and compiling information for survivor databases as well as photographing and documenting many of the bodies in their region as they were recovered.

Throughout this time every member of the Yamanouchi community was on the lookout for Yori's body.

No one had much hope. The story of her loss from the lips of the Chosen One, himself, convinced most that the recovery of her remains was highly unlikely—never mind the thought of any chance for survival.

Sensei, himself, could find no trace of her in his daily meditations. It was understood that she was no longer of nor in this world.

As the numbers of victims began to decline over the ensuing weeks, everyone seemed to embrace the inevitability. The dead were buried or cremated. Only an occasional body would wash ashore now, generally too deteriorated to identify even if the family were present. Survivors were identified and the number of "John" or "Jane" "Does"—as the Americans would call them—dwindled in numbers so that even Hirotaka was convinced.

They had been childhood friends and had grown up together. Trained together. Gone on missions together—much like Team Possible. He was the last to surrender hope and, when he joined the rest of Yamanouchi for the memorial service that honored her memory, he wept unashamedly.

And he returned to living the life he had known ever since the girl with the fierce but beautiful eyes had turned her face from his and set her feet to the path that had taken her to the Chosen One's side. Once again he waited for the ache in his heart to dull over time.

He knew it would never go away.

Then he had the first dream.

It was not unreasonable that he would dream of her but he was surprised at the intensity of the experience.

Less like an actual dream and more like some kind of…connection…between this world and the next.

By the third…sending…he was convinced.

Let Sensei sit and surf the spiritual channels, he would revisit every hospital, every clinic, every nursing facility—again! And one he had exhausted his country's medical resources, he would turn to the Americans, if necessary: their agencies, the military, whatever and wherever the search might lead…

Hirotaka shouldered his pack and set off down the mountain from Yamanouchi.

He had spent the better part of the day saying his goodbyes.

He didn't know when or even _if_ he might return.

**RSVP**

Wade Load felt terrible.

The last time he'd felt this awful waking up had been when he'd downed sixteen, Big Slurp, lo-cal sodas along with three pizzas, a couple of Nacos, and a stale bag of two-year-old Halloween candy on a thirty-six hour programming binge.

Somehow this wasn't quite as bad, but it was close.

He tried looking around but his head felt very heavy and it didn't seem worth the effort to try and move it. Moving his eyes wasn't much better: they felt like they had been rolled in sand and shoved back into his head.

To his left was an array of monitors and electronic equipment. There were tubes and wires attached to machines and bags of different colored liquids: some went into his arm, a couple into his nostril and down his throat, and then a couple that disappeared under the starched white sheets of his hospital bed. He shuddered: he didn't want to know where those ended up.

He moved his head a little and groaned.

A head swam into his fluctuating field of vision. She had short, blonde hair and gazed at him intently.

"Uh-uh-drena," Wade stammered, "luh-luh-lyn—?"

"Frreeeeky," she said softly.

Wade's eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out.

Bebe turned to Dede who had just zipped in to relieve her on watch. "Was it something I said?"

**RSVP**

"I can't believe what you've done with the place!" Dr. Drakken enthused as he shuffled along in his old bunny slippers next to the floating chair bearing Mastermind.

"It wasn't that hard," the masked villain rejoined. "A few throw pillows, some drapes, a little paint...new furniture…and you'd be surprised how incorporating some _feng shui_ into the arrangements brings everything together."

"Well," Drakken said magnanimously, "I'm no good at that kind of stuff—though I do love to bake."

"The secret, Dr. Lipsky, is delegation. Do what you do best; hire the rest."

"Tried that, too. Asked the henchmen to paint—it was a nightmare! And I gave Shego pretty much a free hand to decorate as she pleased." He shuddered. "Ngah!"

"Well, there's your problem, sir! If you want to take over the world, you've got to hire the right people and outsource effectively."

"But it's so expensive to hire and keep anyone good! That's why I keep trying to synthesize my help. I think I'm getting closer to the right formulas: a few more years—or I could steal Professor Dementor's recipes."

Mastermind shook her hooded head. "Actually, I think you'll find your operations become quickly cost effective and even revenue positive, once you establish your core staff and then turn to slave labor to amplify your Stage 2 and Stage 3 Protocols."

"Urunh! I hardly ever get to complete Stage 1! And I've only gotten started on a handful of Stage 2's before my beautiful schemes are foiled!"

"I know," Mastermind commiserated. "I totally understand."

"You do?" The blue man was so used to derision and mocking from his own villainous counterparts that he was genuinely surprised and touched by Mastermind's solicitousness.

"I do. In fact, Drew, I'd like to show you something that is going to change all of that."

"What is it?"

"I'd rather show you than tell you."

"Is it a surprise?"

"Yes. Yes, it is."

"Is it the happy kind?"

"The 'happy kind'?"

"Shego used to tell me that she had a surprise for me and it almost always turned out to be a _Drakken-go-ouch!_ kind."

"Another example of the importance of acquiring the right people, Drew. Shego has been a terrible influence in your life."

"That's what other people have told me!" _When they weren't telling her the same thing,_ he thought.

"Well, I think your life is about to change for the better," his host told him. "You just needed to divest yourself of all of the people who have been holding you back or dragging you down."

"Nnnngh—easier said than done," Drakken grumbled.

"Perhaps. When you have to do it yourself. That's why it's always good to have friends. Occasionally you can let them do things for you."

"What? Like eliminate Kim Possible?"

"Precisely," Mastermind answered. The floating chair slowed and turned and Mastermind spoke to the shadowy silhouette of a long-haired woman wearing a form-fitting cat-suit standing in a darkened alcove. Flickering flames danced around one of her hands casting an uncertain orange light by her hip. "Sheglow, would you round up the others and have them join us? I was going to wait another day or two but since the guest of honor is actually here…"

"S-shego?" Dr. Drakken stuttered. "I thought—"

The woman, who walked out into the better lit area as she passed by them, wore a red and black cat suit, had long blonde hair, and a somewhat familiar face.

"Stop trying to rename me, boss," she said as she sauntered down another corridor. "It's Adrena Lynn. Always has been, always will be."

Dr, Drakken stared at her retreating form. "I didn't know that she had comet powers. Or that she grew her hair out."

"As to the former, she doesn't," Mastermind told him. See those large bracers enclosing her wrists at the end of her sleeves? Quantum flux generators and projectors. The suit protects her from burning herself. It's technology not super powers like your former partner.

Drakken sniffed. "Still has the attitude, though."

"Oh yes."

**RSVP**

Ron Stoppable stared through the binoculars with an overpowering sense of déjà vu.

Anne and Joss Possible came splashing through the surf just a few yards from the beach, moving out from behind a spit of trees and working their way across the line of gentle breakers coming in. As they made their way down the coast, as if this particular stretch was no different than any other part of the island's perimeter, they dodged and chased each other, laughing and splashing as if on holiday and seemingly oblivious to the men holding guns, a few dozen yards up into the tree line.

They seemed equally oblivious to the fact that they had nothing on but their underwear.

And only half of their underwear, at that,

Which the water from the surf and all of the splashing had rendered practically transparent.

With just a little effort, Ron moved the field glasses off of the sleek, bouncing orbs of feminine pulchritude and focused, instead, on the four remaining mercenaries.

These particular soldiers of misfortune were not exactly disciplined. All of them had turned their attention to the show just off the beach and two of them had actually lowered their weapons as they sauntered toward the pair of—yep—_natural_ redheads.

"Like shooting fish in a barrel," Shego's voice snarked in his earpiece. "Watch yourself, Ron. The two closest to me are gonna be the ones with the slowest response time. Let me take them down before you move. Once the fireworks start, the other two will have even more distractions on this side of the camp to draw their attention."

"I'll wait until you begin your move," he answered softly, "but no longer. I'll have more distance to close so I'll have to be in motion even as they see you."

"Copy," she answered reluctantly.

"I can take one of them," Bonnie offered.

Ron shook his head. "This isn't the same as Dementor. These guys won't tie you to a tree so they can make speeches to you about how great they are. They'll either shoot you before you can close or pull a knife and cut you sixteen ways from Sunday before you could land a kick or a punch."

"Back in the jungle—"

"You had advantages and got lucky. Here the terrain works against us: it's open with no cover. They're too far apart for a bondo ball to do any good. Stay here and be my back-up."

She snorted. "And do what?"

"Be the third distraction."

"I'll need a couple of minutes to get my boots and pants off…"

Ron sighed and shook his head. "You're just fine the way you are."

"But they're both—"

"Bon Bon, I am _not_ having this discussion with you, right now. Your—uh—assets—are the best I've ever seen…" _I am so going to be sorry I said that! _he thought_. _"…and while the ladies in the water have the edge in—uh—epidermal quantity, you have got them both beat in—er—upper thoracic _quality_." He closed his eyes and groaned inwardly. _I should have just cold-cocked her for her own safety and not just bought myself a whole bundle of future grief with my big fat mouth!_

Which mouth was being soundly kissed again. "Oh, Ronnie!" she gasped, when she finally broke for air, "I never knew that school words could be so sexy!"

"Yeah, Ronnie," Shego's voice minced in his ear, "wait'll ole Bon Bon tells the Possible girls that you think hers are prettier than theirs."

Ron groaned again. "Change of plans. I'll stand up and just let them shoot me while you finish them off from behind."

"That would be more merciful," Shego agreed, "but I'm supposed to keep you alive. Not let you take the coward's way out. Heads up, I'm moving now…"

**RSVP**

They utilized a simple freight elevator to descend to the storage area in the basement.

Drakken marveled at how Mastermind had changed his old digs, especially down here. Originally a dark, dank place to keep stacked crates of supplies, parts, and the remains of failed past projects, it was now swept out, brightly lit, and partitioned with additional security monitors and banks of switches.

As the sound of footsteps sounded on the stairs behind them, Mastermind pulled out a remote control and pressed a button causing the largish door to open allowing access to the space beyond.

Following his host through the doorway, the former Drew Lipsky was even more astonished to see a cellblock where once there had been an open empty space for storing things.

Apparently Mastermind was storing people. Three, at least.

He glanced at a forty-something woman with strawberry blonde hair, two cells down on the right before his eyes were drawn to an odd colored, white cage farther down on the left. As they moved farther in, he could see that it was a three-sided box of bars—just like the others—only all of the metal surfaces were coated with cream-colored plastic.

The lighter contrast made its occupant easier to see and Drakken instinctively flinched as the woman stood and moved to the nearest set of bars. For a moment he had thought that it was Shego in a blue-green bodysuit, but a second glance revealed that this was a completely different woman—hair, height, face—and the blue-green bodysuit wasn't even clothing of any kind. It was—_gah! Why was she naked? Was the other woman—no._

And now he caught sight of the third prisoner in the cell next to him.

She sat on the cot with her head down so that her long auburn tresses formed a curtain in front of her face. But he didn't need to see any more to identify this captive. Drakken had been head-butted by the cheerleader so many times that he knew the pattern of the part of her hair better than her own hairdressers.

"Kim Possible?" he said wonderingly.

Her head came up slowly, revealing red-rimmed eyes and a haunted expression that was, somehow, more frightening than the sneers or scowls she had favored him with in the past.

She rose and shuffled to the bars of her cell like an exhausted sleepwalker. Clutching a pair of vertical steel rods she whispered something.

"Erh…what?" He leaned toward his teen nemesis to better hear her raspy voice.

"Please…" she repeated softly.

She was begging? Oh, this was too much! Even though he had no say regarding his host's prisoners, he would surely be allowed to taunt the girl a little…make her beg for her release…

"Please…_what?_" he coached her with a toothy grin.

"P-please…"

Drakken came closer and cupped an ear.

"…please…kill me…" she whispered.

**RSVP**

Wade slowly opened his eyes again.

It was just a bad dream. It had to be. Aviarius…Motor Ed…a screaming squad of ninja monkeys…and…most recently…Adrena Lynn!

He trembled a little as he wondered what fresh horrors awaited him as he fought his way back to wakefulness.

The face that swam into view was even more shocking than he anticipated: she was beautiful!

"Hello, Dr. Load."

"H-hello?" His throat was raw and his lips were parched.

The beautiful, chocolate angel slipped a soft hand behind his head and raised it a bit so that he could sip some water through a straw.

"Am I in heaven?" he whispered as she eased his head back and tucked him in more securely.

Two more faces swam into view, now.

"Hello…"

"…Wade."

The lovely black woman dressed in white had almost convinced him that he had died and gone to his reward. But the two "people" standing by his bed, now, sealed the deal: Jim and Tim Possible!

"Y-you-you're…_dead!_" he whispered. _So I guess I must be, too!_

**RSVP**

Ron was reasonably—no—_utterly_ sure that he had never watched nearly naked redheads cavorting on a beach before.

_Or nearly naked anythings cavorting, for that matter!_

Yet, there was something strangely familiar about the way the sunlight glinted off the fiery red mane that Anne was tossing about, the garnet undertones that glittered like dark jewels where drops of ocean spray dripped from her dark crimson locks.

They began to lose focus as they left the water, running up the beach, toward the armed men, waving and giggling. _And bouncing—oh my!_

And now even the two mercs on Ron's perimeter were crossing the open area to move closer to the unexpected—but apparently not unwelcome—new arrivals.

But even though it meant more distance to close for Ron, his targets were even more distracted. Despite his promise to Shego he broke cover early, using his ninja training to run out into the open while simultaneously making himself as unnoticeable as possible. Bonnie rubbed her eyes as she watched him go: he seemed to flicker as he ran and, at times, actually blink out of one place and reappear almost twenty feet away as he zigged and zagged behind the quartet of armed mercenaries.

Anne and Joss were less than a dozen yards away when a pair of plasma bursts streaked out of the bushes and took out the two closest mercenaries. Thanks to their relaxed pose, the remaining two lost precious seconds in bringing their weapons back up as they turned toward the threat. Shego was able to clip one but both were able to return fire.

The second man sensed Ron's approach and was turning toward him when the blonde barreled into him: no fancy kicks or martial arts moves here other than Ron tackling him an angle that brought them both down on top of the other man that Shego had clipped.

Shego ran toward the tangle of flailing arms and legs, swearing and pulling her side-arms: she'd be lucky if she could place an accurate shot while they were all mixed up in close quarters but she sure didn't have a hope in hell of using her plasma.

Bonnie was tearing across the campsite, passing her astonished sisters as if they were complete strangers as she hurried toward Ron and his two assailants. A moment later the two Possible women closed in from the other direction, passing Shego and leaving her momentarily cross-eyed as the convergence of fulsomeness threatened to turn into one great, jiggly, fleshy collision. She glanced down and checked her own "air bags," not so prominently on display by comparison.

"Gonna have to step it up, girls," she told them, "we're not just competing with Ms. Pointy-tits any more."

By the time she joined everyone, it was over. Anne and Joss had snatched the guns out of the melee and Ron had finally managed to tap one and then the other on the necessary pressure points to end it. As he stood back up to brush himself off, he said: "Let's—"

That was all that he said.

In the next moment, his head snapped back and a fine spray of blood spattered Bonnie's and Joss's faces. Ron dropped like a marionette whose strings had just been severed.

Only then did they hear the sound of the gunshot.

* * *

**ABOUT THE TITLE: I grabbed the title of Nevil Shute's post-apocalyptic novel (and movie) for this chapter as we are "On the Beach" and it is a little mind-blowing. Let's just hope Ron's mind isn't blown…permanently.**

* * *

**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 40**

_Grin-Grin 9/24/11 . chapter 40_

...damn...

...seriously...

Okay then.

Again, awesome. At first I was disappointed by "Adrena Lynn" (Deceiver!). But then later, ya know. Awesome.

Though I'm guessing Ron's 'reformed villainess/cult' is full; but a man an dream.

Last thing, though – I vote for zombie/undead Ron!

Sincere Statement: "Thank you."

**Grin-Grin:****_ your vote for Zombie Ron has been recorded. I must assume you're rooting for Justine Flanner since the only girls that Zombie Ron would be interested in would be the ones with…brains! And re: Adrena Lynn? If everyone (besides Pavelius) knew what was coming next, it wouldn't be worth all the effort to produce this monster work. R~13_**

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_Pavelius 9/24/11 . chapter 40_

Evil Cliffhangers are evil...

Seriously... what a way to end the chapter... and if you are near the end of Book I... i can guess what the plot will be in Book II... but i am not posting it... you would change it!

Anyway, keep up the pace

Pavel

**Pavelius:****_ I am assuming that you "like" what you assume I'm going to do since, by not posting your predictions, you're indicating that you don't want me to change it—did I get that right? It's so confusing. ;-) R~13_**

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_readerjunkie 9/24/11 . chapter 40_

Great job ,but why do you vex me so, ending the chapters where you do. It's kills me to wait.

**Readerjunkie:****_ you and Ron should form a new team: the Vex Men. You could be Professor Vexavier! LOL R~13_**

* * *

_CajunBear73 9/24/11 . chapter 40_

Recon wasn't so good after all, huh?

CB73

**CajunBear73****_: I think we should give the Ronman props for not being even more distracted, under the circumstances…but he's about to fix that. Maybe. Since we all know how well certain short-cut fixes tend to work… R~13_**

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_masterbow 9/24/11 . chapter 40_

yay sniper for the win. what you gonna go with mmp healing him the fact the bullet missed the heart and he now has to spend ahem "a couple weeks in bed" or somthing completly random

**_A couple of weeks in bed, huh? Maybe I should move this story over to AdultFanFiction for that plot bunny. _****_I'd count more on "the random" than the" completely predictable"—unless you're Pavelius, that is… R~13_**

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_Sentinel103 3/2/12 . chapter 40_

Sure Rippy though it looks like you stopped the tune on this whacked musical chairs tale that you have concocted. Lemme see Ron's head snaps back and a pray of blood on Bonnie and Joss's faces...Ron drops. So the buffoon has been tagged. I guess that's one way of ending the story. I don't think that you'd end Ann or Shego...you like them too much.

And a pathetic Kim and we suppose the real one wanting to die...heck this could end any sequels too.

That is unless Justine comes back and has DNA samples of Kim and Ron and grows new ones in tubes and we start this dance all over again in 15 years.

Larry (Sentinel 103)

**Larry****_, I like your solution: it gives me 15 years to plot and write the next part. R~13_**

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_evilfrog1 7/20/13 . chapter 40_

weirdbard would be my first his story partners in crime is a serious page clicker

**_Ah! He's sent so many readers into story withdrawal that someone has even rebooted the plot/concept in an attempt to scratch that itch. I hope he returns someday. In fact, I have a tribute planned down the road... R~13_**

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_Some Dude 8/29/13 . chapter 40 _

I've seen a lot of cliffhangers before... but that one was just evil. Good thing u don't have to wait fit the next chapter.

P.S.: Love the scene with Anne and Joss.

**_I guess "seeing red" isn't always a bad thing... R~13_**

* * *

_Ken1__06348__ chapter 40 . 7/24/14_

Man this story is awesome. I cant wait for the next chapter.

_**Good news, Ken: the next post will be a multi-chapter one! R~13**_


	41. And Then

**Historical Footnote**

**This was the final chapter to list the results of the "Shipping Pool" conducted by reader vote. It was "suspended" as of this chapter and I've deleted the listing on the previous chapters with the previous rewrite/repost as the poll was closed, however I've continued to revise the list as the votes came in.**

**As of Chapter 41, the Shipping Pool stood at:**

**Harem:** 25 votes

**Shego:** 18 votes

**Vivian:** 14 votes

**Kim:** 13 votes

**Anne:** 9 votes

**Tara:** 9 votes

**Electronique:** 8 votes

**Betty:** 7 votes

**Yori:** 7 votes

**Monique:** 6 votes

**Yoshi:** 5 votes

**Joss:** 4 votes

**Ron Alone:** 2 votes

**Karen (Nameless Girl in Blue):** 1 vote

* * *

**Required Disclaimer:** Kim Possible and all related characters, likenesses, etc. are the property of Disney. Since this is a work of Fan Fiction, is not for profit, makes no claims to ownership, and bears no resemblance to situations as established by the Kim Possible TV series and/or movies, no rights or obligations are implied.

* * *

**Chapter Forty-One: And Then…**

At the sound of the second report, Anne and Joss were bringing their captured weapons up to bear.

Bonnie dropped to her knees to see to Ron.

Shego was already spinning toward the muzzle flash she had glimpsed from the corner of her eye.

Another mercenary had emerged from the camouflaged hovercraft and was shooting at them with an AK-47 in semi-auto mode. He got off two more rounds before his body was literally shredded by the answering fire from the two Possibles and Shego's twin .45s.

"Help me!" Bonnie shrieked as the merc fell. They turned to see her holding up crimson hands. "I don't think he's breathing and there's so much blood!"

**RSVP**

The cell block had filled up with people—many of them familiar to Drakken if not actual acquaintances. It was getting rather crowded and some of them were forced, by necessity, to step into some of the vacant cells.

"Erm…so…what exactly are we doing here?" he asked his masked host.

"Marking the beginning of a new era, Dr. Lipsky. Look around you. Every single person down here—with the exception of Dr. Renton and Ms. Possible, herself—have, like you, known the bitter taste of failure and defeat thanks to Kim Possible and her sidekick. They, like you, have often wondered what their lives might be like, which plots and schemes might have paid off with fantastical wealth or unmitigated power if only Team Possible had not existed to thwart them…"

"Nngah! It won't work!" Drakken griped. "I know she looks all helpless for the moment but it doesn't _mean_ anything! We've all captured her at one time or another—some of us more than once!" He suddenly ducked down a bit and looked about with a frightened expression. "And that's when it happens! She or that pesky Don guy get loose and, the next thing you know, a lair full of expensive scientific equipment and _Oh Boyz_ collectables is going up in flames and explody bits!"

"I am well aware of Team Possible's penchant for making trouble," Mastermind assured him. That is why I took steps last year to neutralize both of them. Moreover, I did it in a manner that avoided any personal contact with them on my part and kept each of them miles away from my lair. _And_, I did it in a way that kept Global Justice out of it—something that, out and out killing them would not have prevented and actually encouraged. Alas, while my success was swift and even more effective than I could have hoped for, it was not permanent. Ms. Possible and Mr. Stoppable have both returned to Middleton and I fear it would only be a matter of time before they reunited to be as great a thorn in your side as they were before—if not even more so!"

"Well, then, if you know all this—then why are you keeping her here?"

"Drew, there's an old saying: If you can't beat 'em, join 'em."

**RSVP**

Ron blinked up at the writhing ball of multi-colored light. "Rufus? _Ah, man! _What happened?"

**Happened?** the increasingly familiar voice queried in turn, **what makes you think that something has happened?**

"'Cause I was on a tropical island with some friends rescuing a couple of kidnap victims and then: blam! The next thing I know I'm here in this—this—in-between-worlds nowhere dimensional space inside of my head, talking to my animal totem/spirit guide that was my so-called imaginary friend when I was little that left enough of an emotional impression for me to name my pet naked mole-rat after him years later!"

**Whew!** Rufus answered. **That's quite a narrative you've cooked up there—**

"Am I wrong?"

**No.**

"So, what am I doing here?"

**I was hoping it was because you're ready to have your memory restored.**

"Memory? What memory?"

**Well, I can't very well tell you when you ordered me to take it in the first place and then essentially forbade me from returning it—at least until you were ready.**

"So, am I ready?"

**You tell me.**

"Tell you that I'm ready?"

**Yes!** The voice sounded eager.

"Yeah? Well, tell me this, first: was I happier after the memory was taken away?

**Well, yes…that is…to say...well…yes…**

"So, selective memory editing has worked successfully for me to this point?"

**Well…to this point… However, I need to point out that there have been some unanticipated consequences as a result. Your other relationships—**

"Dude! The ladies all seem to dig the Ron-man!"

**That's just it: ****_seem_**** to dig. ****_Seem _****is the operative term, here. The loss of your—er—memory has created an imbalance in the—****_cough_****—possibilities for intimacy. Your MMP seems to be exploiting this imbalance by affecting the women within your sphere of influence—triggering, directing, and enhancing their libidos.**

"Like I said: the ladies are diggin' the Ron-man. The problem is, it seems to be getting worse and the Ron-man ain't exactly digging it back!"

**Thank God! So you are ready to fix this by addressing the memory issue?**

"Well, that depends. If I'm dying, it doesn't really matter, I guess. Other than the Ron-man having lots of lady mourners at his funeral…"

**You're not dying. At least not yet. A bullet creased your head. The scalp is very vascular so you've bled a lot but nothing life threatening. Though you will have a monster headache for a day or two. And please! Stop saying 'The Ron-man"! You're starting to sound like Motor Ed!**

"Point taken. So how do I change the memory thingy? Make a wish? Order off a menu?"

**RSVP**

"If you can't beat 'em, join 'em?" Drakken repeated. "Seriously? Everyone here is agreeing to join up with little Miss Goody Two-Shoes?"

Mastermind finally seemed to grow tired of his guest's obtuseness. "Demenz!" the masked villain called, "Bring the device! Eddie? The cell door!" She turned back to Drakken. "Watch and learn, Doctor…"

Motor Ed walked back out to the controls on the other side of the entrance to the cell block and activated the switch to Kim Possible's cell.

"The other cell, too, Eddie," Mastermind called. "The one next to Ms. Possible's." She turned to Jackie Oakes. "Remember, Mr. Oakes; you'll surrender the amulet as soon as the process is complete. Just as we discussed."

The short, surprisingly muscular man grinned. "And if I don't?"

"You'll still be locked inside of one of my escape-proof cells and Sheglow will—"

"Adrena Lynn," a woman's voice corrected from the crowd of villains.

Mastermind sighed. "Fine—Ms. Lynn will turn your cage into a barbeque pit. I trust we are on the same page?"

"Heh," the former wrestling promoter offered, "I had to ask, ya know?"

"Happy to provide clarification," Mastermind answered. "Demenz! I am waiting!"

The helmeted Professor Dementor rushed past Motor Ed and through the doorway, jostling Drakken's cousin as he entered the cell block with another helmet cradled in his arms.

The door to the cell next to Kim's opened as he arrived. Jackie Oakes stepped inside as Mastermind double-checked the apparatus that Drakken's vertically-challenged rival had brought with him. She glanced up and saw that the door to Oakes' temporary confinement was still open. "You can secure Mr. Oakes, now, Eddie," she called.

Motor Ed looked down to flip the switch and noticed that one of the other cell doors was lit _green_ instead of _red_. Realizing that it must have happened when Dementor jostled him, he hurriedly relocked the cell door and hoped that no one had noticed.

Adrena Lynn handed the Pendent of Anubis to Oakes through the bars once she had checked to make sure that the door was now fully secure. Lighting up the plasma generator encircling her right wrist, she held up her hand and let the orange flames flicker around her fingers as she whispered: "Give me an excuse, Jacks…any…excuse…" The insane grin she flashed him was even more frightening than the raw power promised by the plasma bracers on her wrists.

Oakes gulped and held the pendent over his head, waiting for Mastermind's signal to drop the magical artifact into place around his neck.

Mastermind rotated the hovering throne to address the majority of the villains in attendance. "Friends, colleagues, even competitors—I welcome you all to this momentous occasion. For years, each and every one of you has been plagued by an adolescent girl and her hapless boyfriend. Every plan you have made, every scheme you have plotted, has been foiled, time and again, by Team Possible. Every past attempt to deal with them has failed for, what I believe are, two fundamental reasons. We have tried to defeat them individually instead of uniting together to deal with them decisively. I know that there has been the odd two-some, three-some, or four-some. But this time we have gathered together an army of foes, united in the purpose of bringing down Kim Possible, once and for all."

There was a pause for applause and then Mastermind continued. "The second reason we have failed to prevail is that we have underestimated them. We underestimated the support and assistance of their families and their friends. We underestimated the strength of their commitment to each other, and we underestimated what two underage children could do against seasoned, experienced, adults. We learned the true folly of our assumptions just this past year when we saw what they were capable of against an extraterrestrial invasion."

There was some murmuring at that but Mastermind pushed ahead. "But now we have sundered the bond between the two primary members of Team Possible! We have all but destroyed their families and scattered their friends! And now we shall gain an ally and a weapon of unimaginable power as the final portion of my master plan!"

Mastermind held the odd-looking helmet aloft. "Behold! The Attitudinator!"

The cell block erupted in a cacophony of gasps, cheers, and wild applause.

**RSVP**

"Pssst, Dementor…"

The diminutive genius looked up at the large woman who was suddenly standing next to him.

"It iss _Professor_ Dementor!" he stage-whispered back at her.

DNAmy nodded pleasantly and whispered back: "We need to talk…"

"Vhat about?"

"A side project," she murmured out of the corner of her mouth. "Something big…"

"Iss it part of der Mastermind's plan?" he inquired archly.

The mad geneticist slowly shook her head, her slightly disturbed grin never leaving her face as she appeared to be hanging on their masked leader's every word.

"Ecchsalent!" the helmeted villain responded softly. "Count me inn!"

"When can we slip away and meet?" she whispered.

"As soon as der MM creates her new toy, he vill vant to play mit it," Demenz decided. "I vill meet you down in your lab…"

**RSVP**

**While we are together in this dream state, you have much clearer access to your MMP than you might otherwise have,** Rufus told Ron. **You need only focus your need and desire regarding your memory issues by stating what you want in no uncertain terms. The mystical power should act in a manner that is, not only obedient, but also anticipatory to your needs.**

"Coolio," Ron said. "Just give me a moment so I can figure out the exact words I want to say."

**RSVP**

Electronique quivered with the pent-up charge of electrical power that she had been gathering since her last attempt to free Kim Possible from the emotional restraints of the moodulator chip.

She trembled, as well, from the strain of slipping out of her cell during the brief period that it was mistakenly unlocked and creeping down the corridor behind the crowd, trying to get closer before she was discovered.

She needn't have worried: all eyes were on Professor Dementor as he secured the Attitudinator to Kim Possible's bowed head and fastened the chinstrap.

Elle didn't know how much power she had left for this attempt but now it would need to be even more potent since it had to short out the apparatus in the helmet as well as the moodulator chip.

So, she had to get as close as possible.

And she was running out of time.

**RSVP**

"I want," Ron Stoppable stated firmly, "all of the women who think that they're in love with me to forget me!"

**WHAT?** Rufus shouted. **NO! That's not—I wasn't talking about—**_**do you know what you've done?**_

"Uncomplicated my life, Brah."

**Maybe…maybe not…**

**RSVP**

The Uptopian agent gasped as the cloaked scout craft registered a phenomenal burst of M-rays on all of its instrumentation. She quickly checked the viewscreen, expecting to see The Target wrapped in an eerie blue flames and floating a few feet off of the ground.

Curiously, he was lying on the ground, apparently still unconscious…

**RSVP**

And then there was no more time.

Mastermind gave the signal. Jackie Oakes donned the Pendent of Anubis, dark god of the Egyptian Underworld. Professor Dementor turned on the Attitudinator and jumped back.

And Electronique ran into the crowd throwing every last kilowatt of power that she possessed at the seemingly still too distant cell.

The feedback and resulting explosion was well beyond anything that she expected.

**RSVP**

Ron blinked an opened his eyes.

A hand was patting his cheek. "Kid? Hey kid," Shego was saying. "You awake? We're clearing out of here so, if you want a ride back to the States, you might want to save the nap for a better time."

Slowly, carefully, Ron Stoppable sat up, fighting waves of nausea that crashed through his stomach in counterpoint to his throbbing skull.

Joss Possible was standing a few feet away with her back to him. She was adjusting her mission shirt and speaking to a fully dressed Anne Possible in a low voice. "You don't think he saw me, do you?" she asked quietly. "I mean, it would be so embarrassing if a complete stranger…"

The view was cut off by the appearance of a pair of khaki-encased legs.

He looked up at Bonnie Rockwaller.

She stared down at him, an impassive expression on her sun-kissed face. "It's Stoppable, right?"

Ron nodded and immediately discovered that that was a mistake. Pain ricocheted around the inside of his skull like an Olympic-class billiards shot.

"Well, I'm not sure how much help you really were, but thanks for coming along anyway. Not many people would be willing to put themselves out, much less put themselves in harm's way. Need a hand up?"

"Yeah, thanks…but I think I'm going to need another moment down here…"

She shrugged. "Suit yourself." And she walked off—presumably to do something more important.

**RSVP**

Minutes passed before the first body began to stir.

Dr. Drakken had been shielded from the worst of the blowback thanks to Mastermind's chair which she had interposed between him and the exploding helmet and power surge.

Mastermind had not fared nearly so well.

She lay in the rubble next to her crashed throne, her hood blown away and a trickle of blood seeping from the corner of her mouth.

Drakken crawled over to her and knelt next to her, speechless with astonishment.

Mastermind coughed, a ragged wet sound, and her eyes fluttered open. Seeing him next to her, she raised a gloved hand and clutched at his shirt to pull him close.

"For you," she whispered, her voice bubbling as blood began to fill her lungs. "I did it all…for you…"

"But—but—I don't understand."

"I drove your father away…I wasn't there for you…all those years locked up in the hospital…but I was proud…even played along when you didn't want me to know…about your ambitions…"

"Mother…I…"

"Hush, Drewbie…I don't have much time. The way is clear for you, now…my gift to you…take it…use the weapon I have given you. Your plans…(_**cough)**_…of world conquest…(_**cough**_**…**_**cough)**_…are now…_possible_…

The next cough was a death rattle and Drew Lipsky gathered the small, round woman—so much smaller now that she was out of the floating throne—into his embrace so that his mother could die in his arms.

All was silent, then, save for a lone voice weeping.

After a while another body stirred.

From the center of the blast radius a lone figure stood.

The broken pieces of the Attitudinator fell away from her head revealing a long mane of jet black hair. Here and there in the tangled, medusa-like tresses were hints of deep crimson as if bloodied by a head wound. As her face came up it looked as if she had adorned her brow with an Indian _Tilaka_ or caste-mark. But instead of a daub of paint or makeup, it was a flickering chip pushed deeply into her forehead, flashing the colors red and black alternately.

Another flicker or color glinted in her belly button where her shirt was half torn away: a piece of gemstone from Aviarius' staff that had re-shattered in the powerful feedback from Electronique overloading the electronics and the Pendent of Anubis.

Once green eyes now glared about like obsidian flints and smoldered under scowling brows.

"Somebody," she growled, "bring me the head of Ronald Dean Stoppable!"

* * *

**ABOUT THE TITLE: So many tales—going back to those told 'round the campfire by our ancestors—reach the big moment in the story where the next words are: "And then…"**

* * *

**Authors/Notes:****_ As you may have gathered by changing the title of the story from "RSVP" to "RSVP I: The Fellowship of the Ron," I have decided to go back to the original idea of splitting this epic into three parts, Just one more chapter to go, boys and girls! _**

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**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 41**

masterbow 9/26/11 . chapter 41

lovin it im guessing the reason kim remembers ron is because ron wished for the women who "think" they are in love with him to forget. is it to much to presume that kim going to go after all of team go so she has the superpowers to match ron in a fight.

**_Very astute of you regarding Kim's resistance to Ron's "wish." However, Ron's MMP is not limitless and he's asked for a great deal to cover so many. We've already seen that there are little reminders of Kim that keep seeping into his own thoughts & memory. And we'll soon see how well that expenditure of the Blue Influence works over the longer term. R~13_**

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_Grin-Grin 9/26/11 . chapter 41_

Ron of the Dead?

I was thinking more along the line of "Ronpool" (with Disney and Marvel, and all); but whatever works.

What about the Bebes, though? Will Ron's wish affect their programming (rather its development)?

And now that the compliments are over:

You soulless hellspawn!

Poor Ron, alone in life, no idea who Kim is, no other love interests, no Rufus, no family . . . and no nacos (you HERETIC!).

"Sincere Begging: Keep it up?"

**_Sorry, I confess I'm not conversant with the Deadpool series and the "brains" reference in regards to Justine Flanner was just too good to pass up. I can, however, promise you Zombie goodness soon! Or at least down the road. As for the B-bots? They are slowly evolving and who knows what will come out of that? And please! Heretic? Soulless Hellspawn? It's about time you finally figured me out. ;-) R~13_**

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_CajunBear73 9/26/11 . chapter 41_

Oh boy... on so many levels.

CB73

**_Oh yes. On SO many levels. R~13_**

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_Wanderer3 9/26/11 . chapter 41_

OH COME ON! That has to be one of the cheapest Cop-outs I've ever seen. All of a sudden Ron doesn't have 20 babes of absolute hotness chasing after him or getting his attention, understandably it thins the herd quite a bit, but I think a couple should be left in there. Actual Friends, like Zita and Monique, or ones 'shielded' with the MMP like Betty, Anne and Joss, or maybe one who's completely stalker like 'in love' with him like Amelia... Anyway that's my rant on that part. It's outta my system now. _

That being said: I applaud the move, because it completely sucker punched me. Bravo. Well keep up the good work, and we'll see where you go next.

**_Cheap cop-out? I'll have you know that I paid good money at for that twist! Actually, Ron's "fix"—like most quick and dirty fixes—may not work out as well as he hopes… R~13_**

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_A very odd fellow 3/5/12 . chapter 41_

I assume this is the reset button you referenced a few chapters back. Definitely looking forward to seeing what you do with this, though BRon (Bro-Ron) felt a bit OOC, at least to me. I'm going to go ahead and assume there's a good reason for his behavior, and even if it's not explained, I'm as forgiving a person as you'll find when it comes to plot hooks. For reference, whether or not it matters, I tend towards Rongo; their dynamic is just too much fun. Hope the compatibility issues are behind you.

Can't wait for more,

-Avof

**_Yep, Ron's hit the reset button and—although Part One ends here with Ron a bit hazy in the ladies' memories—his troubles are far from over. As for Ron being a bit OOC last chapter? I'm not sure what specifically gives you pause (though I'm always interested in reader opinions and the more specific the better). The tricky part of writing Ron's character through this story arc is that he's left high school behind and gone through a real series of life changes in the past year: synthokim's devastating attack and murdering Rufus, marrying and then losing Yori, the death of his parents, the attacks on himself and his friends—not to mention the editing of his own memories and the emotional repercussions of that. It's a little hard to figure out who Ron Stoppable is now and how he would handle certain issues relating to relationships. But I can tell you that there will appear to be some very OOCness in the next part of the story—for a very good reason, of course. R~13_**

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_Sentinel103 3/6/12 . chapter 41_

So now our sweet little Kimmie is a murderous %$# & then. Coolio and Ron has turned himself from hottie of the year into 'I just wanna get by and do my own stuff' kinda guy.

This ought to be fun.

Uh you're not gonna re-write this again are you?...I just wanna be clear...

Larry (Sentinel 103)

**_I think "Sweet Kimmie" will make for a very interesting criminal mastermind—especially in her quest for vengeance against "Potential Boy." As for more rewrites? I make no promises but I hope not for another twenty chapters, at least. Ah, the perils of not having a full-fledged beta… R~13_**

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_masterbow 3/6/12 . chapter 41_

just so u know ive been following your rewrite all the way through it just felt redunant to review chapters again but i am looking forward to seeing what you are going redo now

**_Still it's nice to know that you're there and reading. Thanks! R~13_**

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_Uberscribbler 12/15/12 . chapter 41_

Oh for the love of peter, paul, bartholemew, and every other name in the "What's Your Baby's Name?" 12th edition.

I wish, really wish, this could all just be blamed on Spirit Rufus and be done with it. I wish further that there was some way, ANY way, this could all be laid at the feet of the late Mastermind.

But no. Its all Ron. Perfectly screwed up, gloriously human Ron Stoppable and all the lives he's touched and changed. And now he's gone and knocked reality off its bloody axis in ways that suddenly make complete and terrible sense. And his reasons? Perfectly screwed up, gloriously human, and utterly inarguable in their underlying logic.

I'll have much, much more to say to the author after the next chapter. Now, I'm going to down a bunch of sleep aids and hope they knock me out sufficiently. I'm gonna need cases of 'em after the way the last three chapter fried my neurons.

**_Oh dear! This is just the warm-up to the crazier part of the story, U. You might want to restrict yourself to one chapter a week and protect your neurons from RSVP overload! _**

**_Yep! Ron Stoppable is in the building and you might want to keep an exit point in sight at all times… R~13_**

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_Some Dude 8/29/13 . chapter 41 _

HOLY COW!... that's all I got.

**_Yeah, Mastermind was just the warm-up act. Now you can be afraid...really, really afraid! (Although you can probably tell by now that nothing ever really happens right away in this tale.) R~13_**

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_PyroNagus chapter 41 . 10/2/14_

*whistles* heh... i wasn't far off. Of course figured it might be Drakken's mother in the last chapter... but still... ahhh... how can a mother be capable of such a thing(s)? I mean...she's an old fashioned mother with concerns for her children's safety not their dreams. I'd hate to criticize but she tied down her own son and forcibly shaved off his beloved hair (which is just sick and wrong mom) but she encourages and helps her other son to conquer the world? The one that lied to her all those years? It is very much unlikely considering her persona in the series. I really hope you have some explanation in the coming chapter finishing off part one of this crazy thing you call novel.O-o

_**Well now, Motor Ed isn't her son. As I think I mentioned earlier (and is documented in the show) Ed is Drakken's cousin which makes him Mastermind's nephew. For what it's worth.**_

Phew, an epic end to an epic story, never thought I'd make it so far.:D Wait a sec, did i say end? Woops...;)

_**Oh nooooooo! You still have to read RSVP II and RSVP III. RSVP IV is optional. R~13**_


	42. Epilogue I

**Author's/Notes****_: Stick around for the second epilogue after this one. (Yeah, I know, there wasn't one the last time you read this. Just pray I don't do a third…)_**

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**Required Disclaimer:** _The Epilogue and preceding forty-one chapters of RSVP: The Fellowship of the Ron, are works of not-for-profit, fan fiction, borrowing characters and sitches from the Kim Possible series which is the property of the Walt Disney Empire. The author makes no claims upon the copyrights nor seeks any gain from this amateur work for fannish pleasure only. Anyone who suggests or implies otherwise is seriously impaired, under the influence of an attitudinator, or in the employ of the Dark Kim Evil Alliance…_

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**Epilogue I**

As the seatbelts sign flashed off, a stunning redhead got up from her seat and moved down the aisle in First Class to sit in an empty seat next to a brunette.

"'Sup, B?" she asked the astonished passenger.

"Oh my goodness," the brunette said, her eyes widening behind her large sunglasses, "you—you're Heather, aren't you!"

The movie star smirked and leaned in, lowering her voice. "_I'm_ the actress, Brit; _you're_ the singer. Don't insult me by 'acting' like you don't know who I am and I won't blow your cover since you're obviously trying to travel incognito."

Britina sighed. "Okay. I'm busted. What gave me away? The wig and the sunglasses have always worked in the past."

"The past?"

"When I go to visit my cousin Jessie. We both like just hanging out and keeping it real. No paparazzi, no screaming fans. I get to pretend I have a normal teenage life for a few days and she doesn't have to worry about people liking her because she's related to me."

"This cousin of yours doesn't happen to live in Middleton, Colorado would she?"

"Wow! You must be psychic!" the pop star gushed. "First you see through my disguise, then you know where I'm headed!"

"Well, this is a flight to Middleton, Brit…"

"Oh. Yeah. Oh! You're on the same flight! Are you going to Middleton, too?"

Heather laughed. "Busted."

"Business or pleasure?"

"Business. You?"

"Well," Britina said, "it's family, so normally I'd say 'pleasure'. But my cousin has gone missing so I'm going to help look for her."

"Gosh, Brit, I am so sorry! Is it part of the Middleton Curse?"

"Curse?"

"Girl, there have been several disappearances this past year! I was reading about it in the _National Tattler_ as part of my research. First Kim Possible and her partner go missing, then several of their friends: some kid in a wheelchair, his mother, and his girlfriend. And then, more recently a couple of cheerleaders—oh, one of the cheerleaders was your cousin, right?"

Britina nodded. "Research?" she asked.

"Yeah. Another movie."

"Kim Possible?"

"Yeah."

"I thought you made that a couple of years ago."

Heather sighed. "There were problems on the set. Then the studio brought in a new script and took the project in a different direction: _Monkey Ninjas in Space_."

"Oooooh! Direct to video?"

The redhead nodded. "Direct to video. Worse, Quinn did not score well with the test audiences. And then the Lowardians came and everyone saw those pictures of Kim Possible's partner. Needless to say, there's huge public interest in seeing the story behind _those_ pictures on the big screen. Five different studios are developing scripts and all of them want me to play Kim!"

"And Quinn as her partner?" Britina asked.

"Eh, not so much."

"Didn't you stay with Kim a couple of years ago? And she's still missing, right?"

"Yeah. Far as I know."

"So?"

"I'm going to have to choose a script and a studio, soon. I hardly knew Kim the last time so it was hard to figure out what was wrong with the script changes until it was too late. I don't want to screw this project up: it could be huge if it's done right."

"But if Kim's still missing…"

"I can talk to her friends and classmates. More importantly, her partner reappeared recently. Since he's emerged as some kind of superhero, the script will revolve around him. I need to explore their relationship if I'm going to have any hope of equal screen-time."

"You know," the pop star mused, "I met him a couple of times—back before anyone knew there was something there. He even asked me out…"

"Shot him down, huh?"

"Had to. He was—uh—Kim's boyfriend."

"Uh huh."

"What?"

"I know for a fact that they didn't date until their senior year. Research, remember."

"If you've done so much research, why do you need to meet with him?"

"All of my research was with her, about her—about getting her perspective. This time it's more about…him."

"Maybe I should squeeze in a little research of my own while I'm in Middleton…"

"What? Why?"

"What do you care? You're married."

"Not any more," Heather said quietly. "Got an annulment last year."

"Annulment? Isn't that like a divorce?"

"Better: it's like you were never married to begin with. Which is petty much the case."

"Not following, H."

"It was a studio-arranged marriage: our agents thought it would boost both of our careers. We were very photogenic together. It was about the only thing we were together since he bats for the other team."

"You were a sports-widow?"

"No, Brit; he's gay. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Unless you're married to him and want to consummate. A lot."

"Ooooooh! Sounds like somebody's got a lot of pent-up—" She stopped talking as the redheaded actress pinched her lips shut with her fingers.

"That's right," Heather answered with a smile. "I like you, Brit. So, don't make me hurt you."

**RSVP**

Shego slid into the booth across from Betty. "What's so important that it couldn't wait for the morning briefing?" she asked the formerly one-eyed woman in the light trench coat.

Elizabeth Director signaled the bartender for another pitcher of beer. The one in front of her was nearly empty.

"Betts? What is it?"

"You're fired," the head of Global Justice said softly.

"What? What did I do? Wait! You can't 'fire' me: I'm an independent contractor, not an agent."

"Well, the agency has decided to void your _independent_ contract. I cleaned out your locker. Wasn't much there but, what was, is in a box out in my car."

"So, it isn't _you_ firing me." She fought to get her temper under control. "This comes from higher up the chain of command." She grabbed the pitcher as it arrived at their table and poured herself a glass. "So, what did I do?"

Betty shrugged. "'S'cascade. An agent brutally murdered on my watch...maybe two if Du doesn't pull through. Kim still missing. Stoppable assaulted under my protection. Their families victims of domestic terrorism. An elusive criminal mastermind still lurking in the shadows. Drakken's up and disappeared. Who knows what you'll do since the two of you are so tight—"

Shego growled and Betty waved her glass, sloshing her beer. "Not _my_ words. But everythin's messed up. Look wha' happened to Possible women—an' me. Too young, now. Tha's what they're sayin'." She set her glass down. "Never mind I'm as old as I always was—up here!" She tapped her temples with her fingers and almost put her eye back out with one of them. "All they see is I'm too young—here!" Her hands came down and she grabbed her bosom, giving it a shake for emphasis. "Talk about replacing me…"

"They can't do that!"

"They can. Will. If anything else goes…" She waved her hand and pursed her lips. "…poosh!"

Shego leaned back and considered the rollercoaster ride of the past few months. "Okay, so I don't work for Global Fucking Justice, anymore. Never liked the sound of that on my resume, anyways. But you need something from me, you call! All right? You're the only one I ever half-trusted…"

"That's sweet."

"_Half…_trusted, Betts. Besides, I'm gonna land on my feet. That kid, Stoppable, offered me good money to run security for his business and his little brat sister. Give me some stuff to run down for you, off the books: I know I'm gonna get really bored, really fast, otherwise."

"Don' be sho sur—show—sooh sure. Been reviewing my files. All this…stuff! I think Stoppable's connected to it, somehow."

"The kid?" Shego reached forward and pulled the pitcher across the table. "That's it! I'm cutting you off!"

"No. No," Betty protested, "it's all there…in the files…"

"What?"

"That…_kid_…stopped an alien invasion…remember?"

"Uh…" Memories seemed to drift in out of nowhere. "…yeah." She frowned as mental images emerged as if from a fog. "Odd. How could I forget something like that?"

Betty nodded and it looked like her head might fall off. "Not the only one…not the only…_thing_."

"What? There's more?"

Betty leaned across the table. "Ninja training? The Genpatsu nuclear plant?"

More memories now. And Sheila began to tremble. "Holy—he held up a whole building! Borrowed my comet powers! _He was inside my head!"_

"There's more," Betty whispered. "I made a copy of the files for you. They're in the box with your other things…"

_Got my own files, Betts_, Shego thought. _More extensive than yours in some areas. I think I'd better re-read them. Tonight! _Aloud, she said: "I'm getting the distinct impression that we've been the victims of some kind of memory suppression."

"Been thinkin' the same thing. Reviewing the files has brought…a lot of things forward that…somehow…got pushed to the back of my mind. But is it everything? There could be a lot of things that we're still forgetting…"

"And going digging for the answers could be dangerous if whoever's done this decides to try something more permanent," Shego observed.

"Might be smarter to let sleeping dogs lie…"

Shego snorted. "Oh yeah! That's me. I always make the 'smart' choices!"

Betty grinned slackly. "Well, so far I've got three suspects…"

Shego leaned in. "Do tell."

"This mastermind fellow. He's still a huge mystery and is the only one who has managed to destroy Team Possible."

"Not completely," Shego reminded her.

"Which brings us to Young Mister Stoppable…"

"Really, Betts? I may have forgotten some of his recent history but I haven't forgotten what a froob he's been over the years."

"Granted. I can't imagine his motivations given that he continues to treat us as allies…but he's the one with demonstrable abilities to pull something like this off. Borrowing your comet powers. Getting inside your head."

"But didn't something like this happen to him, too? Weren't his memories of Kim Possible heavily edited?" She shook her head again: _just how much stuff had she forgotten?_

Betty shrugged. "So he says. Still, I think your new boss will bear some extra watching. Are you up for it?"

"Sure, Betts. But if he's our number one suspect why don't we cut right to the chase?"

"Meaning?"

She grinned like a sadistic clown. "I'll just put the ole moves on him. Seduce the truth out of him."

"Oh, gack!"

Shego laughed. "You said there's a third suspect?"

Betty nodded. "It's a little far fetched but Yoshi tells me that his adopted baby sister is manifesting some extremely abnormal behaviors."

"Like what?"

Betty shook her head. I'm far too drunk to repeat what she said. Copy of her report…with the others…"

"Give me a hint."

Betty contemplated her empty glass. "Lionel Ritchie…third album…"

"Lionel Ritchie's third album? What? _Can't Slow Down_?"

"Tha' was his second…"

"_Louder that Words_?"

"His…fourth…" She dug out a twenty and ten and slapped them down on the table. "We got 'nother problem."

"Is it bigger than someone messing with our minds and rearranging the furniture in our heads?"

"You tell me. Dr. Wade Load woke up from his coma day before yesterday."

"How is he doing?"

"No one knows. He disappeared from the hospital the same day. Security vids were bypassed or edited. No one has seen or heard from him. Not even his family."

**RSVP**

Across town, the Possible house suddenly disappeared.

In its place was a large, opaque dome of shimmering force.

Shortly thereafter a creature of fantastical aspect came bounding up to it.

The creature looked like some insane taxidermist had cut up a bear, a wolf, and a giant rabbit and then stitched them back together into a freakish monstrosity that was the stuff of nightmares.

Sniffing the ground around what had been the Possible back yard, it growled and began to hurl itself against the mysterious energy barrier.

Just as it was beginning to give up on its single-minded efforts, the force field disappeared revealing the Possible house still intact.

DNAmy's Hidenseeker beast drew back and then considered which window it would hurl itself through in search of its prey. That choice was immediately simplified when the back door swung open. Even though the young woman who stood framed in the opening neither looked like nor smelled like the prey it was programmed to seek, the creature was sure that _she_ was somewhere inside. It charged the soft-looking female, making vague plans to feed on her later—once the true prey was brought down.

Had there been anyone else in the vicinity they might have heard an unearthly screech as the beast leapt through the doorway.

Shortly thereafter, the dome reappeared, cloaking the Possible house in opacity once more.

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**ABOUT THE TITLE: Well, it _is_ the first "Epilogue," so….**

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**Author's/Notes: **

_**The Lionel Ritchie third album title—if you didn't know or were too lazy to Google— was "Dancing on the Ceiling." **_

_**Don't skip ahead to Part II without reading the second epilogue…**_

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**REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 42**

_Feudor 9/29/11 . chapter 42_

Hi there! Sorry I didn't review the last chapter!

Identity of Mastermind was sort of expected! The rise of an evil Kim, though! This makes for à looong story! Not that I'm complaining about that!

Good to ser that Sheegs an' Betty are in the trailer!

Looking forward to next arc!

**_Thanks! I Hope I don't disappoint! R~13_**

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_critic 9/29/11 . chapter 42_

2 huge Game Changers, Drakken and memory. I heavily approve.

**_Yah, memory will be a speed bump starting out and Drakken's role in the coming events will unfold slowly. But you should know by now that that's how I roll. R~13_**

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_Pavelius 9/30/11 . chapter 42_

Hm... so now Kim pulls the "Bring me his head on a silver tray!" card... quite the biblical reference here..

Anyway... twisting the story till the end, hm? Bringing down Ron from "I have the harem" to "I am a poor lonesome cowboy" in only 5 sentences, ouchie... well at least Betty and Shego have some suspicions...

And this is the end of book I? Leaves a lot open for speculation (which i am not doing here because you would pull a Matrix and rewrite it all!)...

Have fun (is this even possible?) during the Hiatus and i dont know about the longer time/review theory... with me it is this way... i rarely review the fics i read... only the ones i really like, so its not the timeschedule that influences my reviewing only personal preferences...

Anyway, keep it up and good work so far

Pavel

**_Don't worry about the speculation, I just keep re-writing them anyway. So, I guess I can tell which chapters you really like… LOL R~13_**

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_CajunBear73 3/6/12 . chapter 42_

Well if Hana's doing that I'd say that Ron and his adversaries are 'Dancing in the Shadows'...

But now to see the realization of what was tampered with and what comes of Ron.

And Kim...

CB73

**_Sure. But as you should know by now, none of that will happen right away. ;-) R~13_**

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_Sentinel103 3/6/12 . chapter 42_

OMG Brit is oblivious as, as hummmm I'd better not say...but CB knows.

Crimony Betts is sloshed, heck she makes about as much sense as I do (wonder if we're related?) LOL.

And things are starting to disappear? How the heck can you lose a house...and a genius or two.

Larry (Sentinel 103)

**_The house and Wade aren't really lost…just…misplaced. (Hmmmm. They're around here, somewhere…) R~13_**

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_pbow 4/30/12 . chapter 42_

You mentioned "Lost" in your Author's footnotes, "Walt, Were are you?"

I'm asking, "Nakasumi-san, where are you?" The toy maker seems to have been "Lost" in the shuffle of all of the subplots. Doesn't he deserve at least a mention from Hirotaka while he's searching for Yori?

And another quick question. Would the B-Bots forget about Ron due to his MMP wish? They may not have loved him, per se, but one of them was starting down that path. (Don't remember which, the one who got the peck on the cheek. Cece?)

I'm really enjoying this tale the second time reading it. I missed so much during the first reading.

Also a little plot point that just came to mind. I don't remember but didn't Ron's wish come BEFORE the Attitudinator exploded? That would mean Kim would forget about Ron and wouldn't want to kill him. You can be sad that someone has forgotten you and still love them all the same. Just a thought.

I hope you get your other obligations over with so you get back to this real soon.

pbow

**_Well, I was going to presume Nakasumi lost in the earthquake and tsunami but, since you raise the question, I've worked him back into the plot. Look for his reappearance in Part II…_**

**_It was Dede who got the peck on the cheek and—as for the scope and effects of the wish—look for an answer (of sorts) to come in a bit. In fact, much more will be revealed in RSVP II: The Two Powers! R~13_**

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_That Swedish guy 6/6/12 . chapter 42_

For some odd reason i never got around to reading this, until now that is. Man have i missed out!

Now, on to The Two Towers... Ahm, i mean Powers!

**_Glad you finally found me! For such a large story it has a low profile. R~13_**

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_warfolomei 6/26/12 . chapter 42_

Have to agree with That Swedish guy. I have missed on a great story, this had everything and kept my interest going trough the whole story. Loved the little details and twists. Need to get some sleep before continuing.

**_Me too! R~13_**

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_Warn 'a Brother 11/4/12 . chapter 42_

Just wanna say you've got my attention for this story. As I write this review, keep in mind I haven't started RSVP: II yet.

I want to see what happened on Britina's and Reaged's blind date!

**_Oooooo! That should be a good one! Can't wait…but you'll have to because a whole bunch o' stuff is about to hit the fan first! R~13_**

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_Uberscribbler 12/15/12 . chapter 42_

The author is a master of this craft.

Every chapter was an exercise in misdirection. Five times we were treated to a tease that looked like KP, and four of those times proved false but completely creditable.

The identity of Mastermind was, in retrospect, blindingly obvious...and yet it wasn't clear until the end.

The plan was, in retrospect, blindingly obvious...and yet details weren't fitted into place until the final explosion.

And now onto phase two, which again will doubtless be filled with blindingly obvious avenues and blind alleys.

The author knows their craft. Would the rest of us could write this well.

**_Aw shucks, U; you're making me blush! And you're right: there will be more confusion and surprises in RSVP II! Better buckle up! R~13_**

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_Some Dude 8/29/13 . chapter 42 _

Well... on to the next collection( saga?).

**_Ahem..._****_Epic_****_ saga! R~13_**

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_BartWLewis__chapter 42 . 3/4/14_

Awesome story. I dont know what you have planned, but I do know I cant wait to find out.

_**I don't know what I have planned and I can't wait to find out, either! **_

_**;-) R~13**_

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_PyroNagus chapter 42 . 10/2/14_

Oh ho ho... now is the time for wrath...now is the time for ruin...and a red nightfall... (did i quote that right?)

_**Eomer says "pretty close."**_

I have the utmost confidence that Kim Will make the ultimate super villain; much more interesting than the that mastermind fella. Who was he in the end anyways, pfff... who cares? He's not so hot now anyways. XD That is how much i think Kim will be much more awesome-er than him.

_**Dark Kim has bigger plans! Oh yes! (And she can do anything!)**_

Right now I'm picturing the infested Sarah Kerrigan from StarCraft 2, her skin turned dark, sitting there on her throne, brooding dark thoughts with a zergling in her lap. Interestingly Sarah was a red head before her infestation. Freaky coincidence? Jim raynor saves her from the infestation in the end of wings of liberty. Which is, i would assume, you're gonna have Ron do to Kim. Very freaky coincidence? Arcturus Mengsk (the warm up villain) is the cause of her transformation. Super freaky coincidence? I can predict the future of your story by observing the plot lines of 'StarCraft' and 'StarWars'? Super duper freaky oracle powers... eh *shrugs then eats a naco nonchalantly*

_**Sorry, not familiar with Sarah Kerrigan or Starcraft. I must have tapped into the Great Cosmic Unconsciousness. But I think naming the three parts of the RSVP saga after the titles in the Lord of the Rings triology does give a hint of the path ahead... R~13**_


	43. Epilogue II

**Author's/Notes****_: Heads up! This epilogue (part 2) only ties up Part I of the RSVP Saga. The story continues in "RSVP II: The Two Powers."_**

_**(If you have trouble finding it, just go to my Profile Page and look)**_

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**Epilogue II**

Okay, folks; this is not part of the actual story, _per se_, but the author taking a moment to say a few things before continuing on to Part II of the RSVP Saga.

First of all, I'd like to say "Thank You!" to all of you who have stuck it out, stayed the course, and may have even suffered through multiple read-throughs as I have gone back to correct, edit, and even expand this behemoth. I'd like to say you're the greatest…but we all know that we're just sad, sick people to waste this much time on this particular piece of KP fan fiction.

Especially when you could be wasting it on Naruto fan fiction, instead. (grin)

Seriously, though: _Thank you!_

Especially those of you who have dropped me some words of encouragement, alerted me to errors in the story, asked questions that required me to pay more attention, provided me with unexpected plot bunnies, and even called me to task with complaints or criticisms. 'Sall good!

I'm sorry for those who feel that I ramble too much and would like me to tighten the story and wrap things up more quickly. I understand. If I were writing a novel (and I have written seven of those pesky things), I would be forced to have more discipline and conform to a word-count limit.

Among other things.

But, instead of the RSVP Saga conforming to some sort of short story/novel template (at least size-wise), I'd like to propose that you consider this to be the fifth season of _Kim Possible_.

Not an episode or two _from_ Season Five but the _whole_ season!

In fact, think of it as one of those TV programs that gets cancelled by the network and then another network picks it up and keeps it going!

Like Disney drops _Kim Possible_ after four seasons and then HBO picks it up!

Think of it like that. KP: Season Five: HBO.

Woo! Game of Sitches!

Anyways, a little confession or two before I continue on to Part II…

I started this story as therapy.

The last five years of my life I've had to endure some difficult circumstances with becoming a caretaker for two different generations of family members and sustaining injuries in a couple of accidents that have slowed me down and added some chronic pain in the mix. The stress and bouts of depression were to be expected. Anti-depressants don't work. They just add a little Aztec Two-step into the mix so I don't do mood enhancers and have to find my _Peter Pan Happy Thought_ elsewhere.

I don't tell you this to say "Poor me!"

I'm not that miserable. I'm a fighter. And I don't mean to suggest my life is a woeful pile of steaming _feldercarb_. Just a little stressed.

But, like most people who read (as well as those who write), I needed a little escapism.

And I needed to break the writers' block that had not just invaded my other projects but had crash-landed on top of me like the Borg mothership.

I have a day job but I have writing contracts on the side. Some have remunerated me handsomely, others are still works-in-progress that I hope to get back on track soon.

But I suddenly found (back in 2011) that my muse had deserted me.

Hell, she shot my dog, burned down the house, emptied my creativity accounts, and drove off in my pick-up with a guy who writes KIGO fanfic in his mother's basement! (Not that there's anything wrong with that…)

Strangely, I had just discovered this general website and had started reading the KP fanfics here. Then came the thought…_Maybe if I have a little fun here in the KP sandbox, I can get my creative juices going again and break my writers' block…_

OMG, I had no idea!

So, the little idea I had for the explosive set-up, the operatic finale, and the Stig-worthy road-trip in-between…grew.

Morphed.

Mutated.

Oh, don't worry: I still know where I'm going and how it's all supposed to end.

Pretty much.

Any radical departures are mostly your faults, dear readers! That's right, YOU! With all your talk about harems and such! That wasn't originally part of the plan…so much. And now you all have me doubting my final hookup…

Well, time will tell on all of that. But you only have yourselves to blame!

Certainly not me. (whistles innocently)

But I digress.

This fanfic has been therapy for me in so many ways.

Because I could do (pretty much) whatever I wanted (even though I learned I now had dozens of editors looking over my shoulder instead of just one), it freed me from the constraints and shackles that "professional" writing projects require and allowed me to "play", even run riot through the KP landscape. I was allowed to experiment. To please myself in trying different things.

And it worked.

Not just because I could do as I wanted. But, in a totally unexpected, gratifying, and surprising side-effect, I had contact with readers in ways I've rarely had before. Your enthusiasm and positive feedback have re-infused me with a gratitude for the process and erased some of the self-doubt that writers' block always adds to the mix. A writer writes for three groups of people: his editor/publisher, himself, and, of course, his readers.

Too often, the only people you can listen to is the first group. Fanfic-dot-net has allowed me to take them out of the mix so I can write for me and and you and hear your voices in return. It has been gratifying—yes, even when some of the voices challenge what you're doing or what you've done. Those readers make us better writers, whether we agree with them or not. While no one can write to please everyone, we're idiots if we never concede that sometimes (or even more often) the other guy is right.

In some instances I wish I could go back and do a major re-do of what I've written here. But the format of this system is more unforgiving than an unpublished manuscript sitting in my laptop. You've already read what has come before. Reader reviews are a part of the process and if you go back and totally change things—delete whole chapters, add more chapters—it becomes very confusing for the review reference points.

And, of course, for those who keep going forward, wondering what happened to so-and-so or how something happened that they have no memory of.

Rewrites only allow for minor course corrections here, not major ones. To quote the poet Omar Khayyam:

The Moving Finger writes; and having writ,

Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit

Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,

Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.

With apologies to Omar, I _can_ go back and fudge a little…but massive overhauls are a bit trickier. So, I hope you understand that up through the next 43 chapters of Part II, the course has already been set, the trail blazed, the concrete sidewalk poured. I might be able to drill up the cement and redo it here and there, but I can't move the pre-existing sidewalk too far in a new direction so we're all stuck with some things in the story through Parts I & II.

Yes, the re-editing in The Two Powers will be more extensive than in Part I but most of the storyline will remain the same. Still, there will be some surprises—and I'm not counting the ones from your not paying attention the last time you rushed through the story (don't make me get out my **Mother Superior Ruler of Admonition)**!

;-)

Anyway, thanks for caring to read and especially thanks to those who take the time to respond.

You are the wind beneath my wings.

Riplakish 13

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**READER FEEDBACK**

_Ken106348 chapter 43 . 7/25/14_

loved the story. Can't wait for the RSVP II

* * *

_Sentinel103 chapter 43 . 7/25/14_

And I am still reading no matter how weirdo this gets.

* * *

_BartWLewis chapter 43 . 7/26/14_

Great ending.

* * *

_Laserai chapter 43 . 7/26/14_

Well, I was just glad to provide the motivation you needed to keep moving forward. Often more then not, readers come on to fanfiction dot net to read but either forget or choose not to review. Its a critical step that many often forget. My story counters all tell me the sad story 2,000 readers hits vs 0-1 reviews. I have started to likewise write for myself and subconsciously pray for reviews as for me they seem to be far few and between. Your left with those never ending questions: Did my writing suck that much that no one figured it was worth a review? Why the hell am I even still writing? Plenty of lookie loos but no one actually stopping to say anything.

Writers block is rather difficult to overcome if it looks like no one is even paying attention. So I totally get the lack of motivation bit due to life's errant course. 1/7 stories completed due to such a writer's block. Apparently, my inward assessment of my story plots are overrated since I can't get a lot of feedback.

Stories that I have taken down due to negative feedback. People always seem to find the time to complain rather then upbuild. Screwed up world I guess. I actually have like 15 - 20 stories I am working on that are not even on the site sitting on my drive. More or less wondering if its even worth posting them.

Anyway . . . and you said you like to ramble. Your story direction was deliberately confusing and I like that. Not many can get my intellectual mind confused with literal works. Well congrats, you have blown me away with this one. Consider that while you work on your next projects. It is truly an honor to be sitting where you are.

I will continue to watch anything you write with keen interest. You also say you have wrote several novel works already. Which ones? I am more then curious as I would like to seriously look into them based on the prowess you have shown me with this story.

As always well done, I only wish I knew about your works here from the beginning but as my profile bio says I have been dealing with some life altering changes and preparing for some future ones as of late. Between that and evading the borg like writer's block has been creatively tiring at times. You have done well, master.

Now lets see how well you do in your next endeavors. Not that we have anything to worry about right: 42 chapters of awe inspiring goodness and creative grand master genius agrees with me.

Keep charging. Laserai out.

* * *

_sakura89luis chapter 43 . 7/27/14_

freaking awesome job writing this story, cant wait for the second installmen.

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_PyroNagus chapter 43 . 10/3/14_

Nice slip up, me. *sigh* okay so Drakken is the only child but mamma lipstick is still batpoop crazy, and doesn't have anything better to do with her retirement. Hey if Drakken never turned good things would've been so much more uncomplicated, bruh. Mastermind (who was he btw?) and so much death and pain would've never happened. Shame on you. You dirty sadist. How many souls from the Kp verse did you sacrifice to get your muse back?

But then again this chapter is about you so I'll comment on that.

Oh yeah, fanfiction is a great emotional anchor. Once those reviews start rolling in you just can't put down the story. It sucks you in like a dark mind hypnosis. A drug you can't let go of. Wow that's a really dark narrative. XD

I don't know about the literate people here in but most people have short attention span. I'm not saying they're uneducated but I for one love listening and reading rambles and once I'm impressed with their work I want the author to tell something about themselves. I reach out and try to make a connection. That's why I ramble too. But hey what do I know? I'm still a teen.

So ramble, write crazy messed up stuff, say whatever you want. And of course enjoy yourself. Cause that's what I like to see. You sir, are making my first fav author since I got into this loony bin called fanfiction. Keep beating the blood, Riplakish. ;)

This is Nagus signing off. End of transmission.


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